


and then there were six

by friendlyneighborhoodpetrichor



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coming of Age, Crime Fighting, Drug Addiction, Female Friendship, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gay Male Character, Los Santos, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Pansexual Character, Platonic Relationships, Pop Culture, Rehabilitation, Some Humor, Some Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodpetrichor/pseuds/friendlyneighborhoodpetrichor
Summary: smosh au // ian hecox and anthony padilla were rejects, outcasts, failures. together, they moved to the big city a hundred miles from their shitty hometown. they find those rejects like them, give them a job. a purpose. but- anthony and ian discovered a hidden side of los santos shortly after moving there. my favorite coffee isn't just a local cafe. it has its fair share of secrets too.[EDIT]: this story is unfortunately a smosh fanfiction right now. i've basically left the fandom- however, i'm keeping this up and using the people from the smosh channels as characters in this story simply because i want to focus on plot and not character development. i am not affiliated with any of the people featured in this and i'm using their names/appearances/some random facts about them to write a fictional story, and i do plan to change the names, personal details, and real-life factoids when everything is fully written, if i ever return to this story. but as of right now i'm not planning to keep writing :(
Relationships: Courtney Miller/Shayne Topp, Ericka Bozeman/Damien Haas, Matt Sohinki/Mari Takahashi, Wesley Johnson/Mari Takahashi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. pilot

“We’re surrounded, shit.” Noah cursed.

“Eh, the more the merrier!” the blonde beside him crowed, applying another coat of fire-engine-red lipstick before tossing the empty tube behind her.  
“I don’t think you understand how this works!” Damien loudly hissed at her, his back against Shayne’s as the group slowly rotated. She winked and suggestively smiled, before breaking character and laughing hysterically.

“What? It’s just a little fun!” Courtney smirked again, elbowing her blue-haired friend in the ribs while maintaining a tight grip on the hot pink handgun. (Sarah designed it especially for her after she ‘lost’ the last three boring black weapons. She figured it’d give her incentive to keep it safe and use it wisely.)

“Fun we can’t afford to have right now, babe,” Olivia sympathetically murmured in her best friend’s ear. Her slender fingers were twitching as they caressed the tiny dagger in her belt; she really wished she wouldn’t have to draw it, not this early. Sohinki had wisely taught her to let the guns do the talking, to wait to strike until her knife could be put to good use. If only it were always that easy.

“Okay, everyone stay calm and be quieter. Even though they know we’re here, they can’t see us yet, and don’t know that we know they’re ambushing us,” Shayne reassured his team.

“Ian did a damn good job!” Noah lightheartedly exclaimed, moments before Keith slapped him in the ear.

“Shut your mouth, white boy,” Keith bantered, patting the skin he’d hit with a grin on his face. “Ian did do a damn good job- wait that’s a tongue twister, Ian did do a damn good job-”

“Say it three times fast: Ian di-” Damien cut his best friends off with a well-timed shush. A rustle was heard in the darkness that spread around them, and everyone adopted his level of seriousness. Shayne’s hands trembled around the trigger, dancing over it with anticipation and nerves. He hadn’t been able to pull it for weeks, no matter how much he yearned to, needed to.

This was their first time in the field since- since it happened. Ian championed optimism, favored looking on the bright side of their losses- it seemed that half the group hid their insecurities and fear below quippy remarks, the six young people shoving down the emotions and funneling them into the pull of a trigger.

“We’ve got this, guys,” Shayne shakily muttered, dismissing the flashbacks entering his mind before they took hold. “We have the upper hand. We’re fine.” Courtney’s smile faded as she nudged his shoulder and adjusted her hold on her weapon. It seemed he was saying it less for his team, and more for himself.

Her eyes sought his baby blues, radiating reassurance and solemnity that was rarely present these days; Courtney’s personality had drastically shifted since February’s events, and in moments like these, the old Court shined through.

“Boze would tell you to stop being such a ninny and get a grip. She’d hit your bicep and roll her eyes, because you’re strong and brave and capable. And a damn good leader. You’ve got this.” The words brought tears welling up behind her eyes, threatening to bubble over before she looked away, biting her lip and wincing at the unpleasant memories. Damien audibly sighed, but only Olivia picked up on his obvious discomfort.

“Dames,” she whispered, getting his attention and staring up at him. “I miss her, hell, we all do. So shoot these bastards and make her proud.” He grimaced but seemed to straighten up, his ears picking up on some indiscernible racket in the brush beyond him.

“I think they’re coming,” he and Noah muttered in unison. The six squeezed together. Courtney, Shayne, Keith, and Damien all grabbed their guns and held them at the ready, Noah fingering the controls in his pocket, Olivia running her hands over the knife pressed against her hip. Ian had told them it would come to this; they all knew they’d have to kill someone tonight. Maybe multiple people. But their friends, the other half of their team, were missing, taken, gone. And if this was the first step towards getting them back? That was a step they were more than ready to take.

-


	2. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shayne's dreams are dangerous- especially the memories lurking in them, both good and bad.

Dreams are funny things. Sometimes they're so outlandish and too unbelievable to be true. Other times, they're real. Scarily real. That seems to be the only kind of dream Shayne can have lately- the latter, that is. The kind he wakes up from with his heart pounding, blood racing, sweat trickling down his face at a glacial speed, just enough to let him know he's awake (or alive). Tonight is no different, The minute his head touches the pillow, he's transported into his memories. And, despite the terrible ones, it's the happier ones he's most scared of.

-

Boze and Damien were laughing together, Olivia's watermelon-slice-smile apparently the most hilarious thing imaginable. Joven sat beside them on Noah's left, forbidden from driving and banished to the back seat after last week's near-death experience. Ian and Anthony had promised to take them to their favorite mini road trip spot from when they were teenagers, and to the young adults, nothing sounded more exciting. 

Shayne watched his friends roll with laughter, the comforting presences of Courtney and Damien on either side of him. He watched Courtney adjust the strap of her bikini top, watched Joven slather sunscreen onto Mari's back as Keith did the same to Noah and Olivia. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the swimming hole as soon as they arrived, drown his anxieties and worries with fresh, clean water that seemed like a goddamn baptism after a particularly long week at work.

"Whatcha thinking about, crinkles?" Boze questioned, teasingly running her index finger over her forehead where Shayne knew he had furrowed lines forming.

"Swimming." He didn't have to say the second word running through his head; she knew.

"I know, right? It's been too fucking long since we got out of that city. Freedom! at last, am I right or am I right?" She winked, a millisecond in between their shared smile and the sudden squealing of brakes.

"We're here, bitches!" Anthony screamed, rolling down his window and throwing the passenger door open to clamber out of the pickup truck. Pausing to help Keith with the cooler, Shayne gazed at the open field before him, full of possibility and happiness. Something about the clear blue of the sky reflected on the small lake, the weeds and grass seeming majestic rather than pesky. The bees seemed to lazily flap around the branches of the solitary oak tree, showing that time, in fact, could stop and let the world breathe a little. (Damn, he was feeling overly poetic today.)

His brief reverie was interrupted by a shriek, for Joven had slung Mari over his shoulder and taken off full force towards the water. Lasercorn scooped up a begrudging Noah and joined Joven, Courtney sprinting to catch up (and everyone shedding various items of clothing). Boze jumped atop Damien's back and bellowed something along the lines of "onward, trusty steed", the boy carrying her to the lawn chairs with a giant, wide, dorky smile spreading across his face. A shirtless and grinning Anthony turned around to face Shayne, still stuck next to the cooler.

"You coming?" His words were sincere, sympathetic, hopeful. Shayne knew Anthony was sorry for all that had happened to him, sorry for all that would continue to happen to him, knew that Anthony was trying his hardest to make everything easier for them in the cruel, stupid world. Knew that he was the brother he never had, one of the best friends he would have.

"Yeah," Shayne murmured. "I'm on my way."

-

"Where's Anthony?" he called out loudly, scanning for his friend who was absent from the set up of folding chairs and picnic blankets. Blinking, he found himself not in a grassy field filled with laughter but his dark room with bedsheets tangled around him. He blinked several more times, adjusting to the dim, barely-there light and the radiator's background music.

"Hey," A sudden voice penetrated the near-darkness, surprisingly feminine- not Damien, then.

"Courtney? What-"

"I heard you from down the hall. You didn't wake me up, you just startled me a tiny bit." She sat on the edge of his bed, back hunched over and head hanging.

"I was dreaming about last summer. Remember that one long weekend, we drove up to the swimming hole?"

"How could I forget? Liv almost drowned and I got food poisoning from that stupid mushroom Dave dared me and Sohinki to eat, but it was fun." Her words are hesitant, painful. "I wish- well, my dreams weren't so great." Shayne is hit with an overwhelmingly loving sense of concern and compassion. He and Courtney might have taken their losses harder than the rest of the team, or that's what it often felt like. Two slightly broken people, surviving together.

All we have is each other now, the six of us. We're still here. I'm still here, he thought to himself.

"What?" She muttered, turning to face him, her halo of blonde hair surrounding her sleep-worn features.

"Oh- just thinking out loud. What time even is it?"

"Late."

"So..."

"I'm sleeping in here tonight. Please don't ask questions, just go back to bed. Please." Without asking, she crawls into the bed next to him, curling her body into a fetal position and settling into a breathing pattern signifying her slumber. Shayne lies awake facing the ceiling for who knows how long, and she eventually rolls over to end up pressed against his side.

As he slowly drifts off, feeling her warmth and her body tangled with his, he doesn't feel uncomfortable. He feels okay. Maybe he's been okay with this for a long time.

\---------------------------------------------

a/n- lovely readers! i'm alive!! this chapter was darker than i intended, sad angsty semi-fluffy stuff. i'm really invested in this story; the pieces are starting to come together! i actually updated the summary to actually reflect the plot, check it out :) ily guys thanks for reading ;)

for real this story has me excited and i hope you're all enjoying it so far!! please leave kudos if you like and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment anything lmao idc if it's related to the story or not: it actually makes any day so much better and i'm so excited to show you guys the next chapter, in the works now...


	3. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the backstory people have awaited :) whether you asked for it or not, here's some answers.

"I gave you the right directions, dumbass! Maybe you're the one who needs glasses, huh?" Noah's tinny voice erupted from the speaker, the bustling cafe behind him making itself heard **very** clearly.

"It's not my fault that I can't decipher your chicken scratch, man. I think I'm on the right street; anyway, I'm looking for a black awning with pink, blue, and yellow print, right?" Shayne scanned the block for said awning, eyes lighting up as he spotted the store through the falling snow. "Never mind. I think I found it, be there in five."

"Great. You just had to come in on my break, making me waste time hugging you, bro. See you soon." 

"Can't wait," Shayne hung up as he chuckled, pressing the walk button and waiting for the working half of the broken traffic light to flash green. Noah had heard he was back in town and offered to try and get him a job at his job, if not some free coffee. The young man hadn't thought he'd be able to wander the Los Santons streets peacefully again, but this was a shinier, fresher city than he'd left two years ago. A new Shayne.

_Hey, hellhole. I'm back. And you're not breaking me again._

\--

"Shayne. Robert. Topp!" Noah screamed as he watched his old friend amble through the doorway. "I haven't seen you since high school drama with Pessey, how are you? What've you been doing since you dropped off the face of the earth?" He enveloped Shayne in a hug before the blonde boy could answer, squeezing the life out of him like he had the day Shayne "moved".

"I'm okay, I'm actually okay. It's been a crazy couple of years, but I'm kind of happy to be back. As soon as I turned eighteen I signed a lease on an RV, drove around the country for a year or so, met some cool people, made a little cash, got my bearings. No more ferret families, am I right?"

"Right," Noah murmured, remembering the scar his friend had on his wrist from a particularly vengeful rodent. "Well, I want to catch up, but Ian and Anthony probably want to interview you now. Also-" he paused to snatch a muffin from the glass display case he stood in front of and jam it in Shayne's mouth. "Eat. You need some fat on you."

"You're one to talk, Gumby. By the way, I like the hair." Noah self-consciously touched his freshly-dyed turquoise curls, waving for Shayne to enter the back meeting room. Less than ten minutes later, as he was about to put on his apron and return to work, he felt his phone vibrate with Anthony's specific buzz pattern.

_hey, can u show shayne what to do during your shift? he's in. sss at 5 can u text the squad :)_

Noah smiled.

\--

Shayne flopped into a chair at a finally empty table, completely exhausted after an hour and a half of serving. Despite the slow crawl of a Sunday with almost no customers under the age of 60, making drinks was surprisingly hard. He and Noah would apparently work the afternoon shift on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. The job was easy enough, light enough.

Ian and Anthony had asked him the normal questions: where he was from (a small town in Arizona), how old he was (19), previous work experience (various janitorial jobs and weekends waiting tables). They only spent about eight minutes (he was counting) talking to him, letting him start working after a shockingly short amount of time. _They must be really short on workers,_ he mused. _Curiouser and curiouser._

Shayne was startled to his feet by the chime of the little doorbell, snowflakes fluttering into the room as a rambunctious group of people strolled into the cafe.

"Hey, I'm new here, but I'm pretty sure we're closed at 5 on Sundays, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave." His voice was surprisingly shaky, probably because of the two really tall guys staring him down like he was a piece of snow they wanted to crush beneath their boots.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, cowboy." A dark-skinned boy laughed, emerging from behind the pale boy with silver hair. "We work here. Team meeting got called by the bosses." Noah emerged from the back, Ian and Anthony falling close behind.

"Relax, Shayne. These are our co-workers," Ian placated, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. Shayne flinched, he'd never been great with physical contact. "SSS. You know the drill." Chairs were immediately pushed around tables, tables were hastily shoved together, and young adults scrambled for places around the makeshift desk.

"Hello, I'm Keith Leak Jr, your host. Welcome back to the Shit Sharing Show!" The last three words were cheered by everyone in the circle, including Noah, who sat on Keith's left. Quickly scanning the formation, Shayne noted twelve people sitting around the table(s), himself being the thirteenth.

"Unlucky," he muttered. "Great."

"Keith, shut up for a second," Anthony chortled, running a hand through his dark hair and raising one eyebrow at Keith's subsequent eye-roll. "Shit Sharing Show basically translates to this: share your name, age, and how you got here. It's our little new person tradition. We're a little family here, beyond co-workers. And this family loves new members. So, let's get started! I'm Anthony Padilla, I'm 26 years old, and I'm here because anxiety, ADHD, and a sleep small town don't mix. I moved here and started this business several years ago with my best friend."

"I'm Ian Hecox, also 26, and I moved here with Anthony 8 years ago after my dad died. Los Santos seemed better than nowhere, California, so here we are." He shrugged, pushing his glasses further up his nose before turning to the young man next to him. This guy had wide eyes and fluorescent orange hair, a look of slight derangement present on his face.

"I'm David Moss, but I prefer Dave. I'm 21, and I'm here because I didn't want to go to actual jail, which is where I'd be if these clowns hadn't hired me."Instead of admitting his joke, he seemed deadly serious, and no one was laughing.

"I'm Joshua Ovenshire, but I like Joven, also 21. I ran out of college money for sophomore year and these two found me on the streets, or rather, under a bridge. Probably should've stayed under the bridge, tbh." Ian flipped the bespectacled boy off, grinning widely as David ruffled Joven's hair. The latter mimed passing a mike to the short guy sitting next to him, who accepted and cleared his throat before introducing himself.

"I'm Matthew Sohinki, but Matt or Sohinki is fine. I'm 20. Those two saw me in this place a couple of years ago and offered me a free drink- I looked pretty rough. I was struggling after ditching rehab and they're why I've managed to stay clean for almost 18 months now. Without Ian and Anthony, I'd probably have ODed by now." The purple-haired girl next to him squeezed his hand, narrowing her eyes at Shayne in a sort of challenge as she began to speak.

"I'm Mari. Mari Takahashi, definitely not Mary. 21. I was a stripper, I needed the money, and I got jumped coming out of the club one night. Ian was walking by, for some reason, and he punched the creep. I don't want to know what would've happened if he hadn't shown up." Frowning, she rolled her eyes and stared at a napkin dispenser like she was trying to burn holes in it with her eyes.

"I like to joke that I'm the Valjean to her Fantine, sans child and tooth-pulling!" Ian spoke to lots of groans from his friends who'd obviously heard the joke numerous times before. He zipped his lips as Anthony shushed him, silently smiling at the slight smirk Mari had adopted.

"Hey, guys!" Silver hair said, his voice surprisingly high for his mammoth size. "I'm Wes Johnson, I'm 20, and I was almost a cop- until I broke a vertebra and never finished training. I turned to alcohol when I dropped out, just barely eighteen and constantly drunk beyond belief. Anthony was in the same bar as me a year and a half ago, and he took me here for some strong coffee and a good chat. I'm seven months sober now. Hopefully, that doesn't change."

"I'm Amra Ricketts, but it's Flitz for you. I'm also 20, also a kid with daddy issues. Dear old dad had some serious anger management problems, so I ran away as soon as I could drive and ended up driving here. I lived on the streets and started pickpocketing to support myself. Ian caught me trying to snag his wallet and brought me here, set me straight." This came from the tall black man sitting next to Wes, a toothy grin lighting up his otherwise intimidating face. Keith high-fived him before good-naturedly pinching Noah's cheek and beginning his 'shit sharing'.

"I'm Keith, as you know, only 19 but my mind is older, and I'm a homosexual. But deep southern people don't like the gaes very much sometimes, so I came somewhere far enough from my conservative small town bullshit. Saw the ad, told the sob story, got the job. White boy?"

"Very funny, Keith. I'm Noah Grossman, but I'm not very gross at all, don't worry. I'm 18, and both my parents died about eight months ago. I started working here six months ago for a little cash once I was old enough; I actually live here, upstairs in Ian and Anthony's guest room." He shrugged as the petite Asian girl moved to hug him, his eyes glossing over slightly at the mention of his family. She didn't move as she began to speak.

"My name is Olivia Sui, and I'll tell you if I want you to call me Liv, okay? I'm 19, and my parents were illegal immigrants from China. They got divorced when I was a kid and were both separately deported last year. I had to move after high school because a ton of people in my neighborhood knew all about it and I was terrified, even though I was super close to getting my citizenship. As soon as it went through I drove away from that place, and ended up being drawn to Los Santos. Anthony saw my Tinder, funnily enough, and matched with me, asking me on a date here. We didn't start dating, but he did give me a job."

As she finished her sentence, Anthony jokingly blew her a kiss. With her slender hand, she pretended to catch it and throw it at the pretty blonde girl next to her, who blushed and pretended to swoon.

"I'm Courtney Miller," she giggled, winking at her friend with a flirtatious smile. "I'm 18 and I'm a pathetic college dropout. I couldn't handle freshman year, which I know sounds so weak, but I had serious anxiety and intense homesickness that prevented me from functioning. See, I wasn't at a great school, so I flew home to find that my parents had just packed up and left. I haven't been able to contact them since. Three months ago I picked a place on a map, moved here with a suitcase full of clothes and a prom queen sash, and found these idiots while singing on a street corner. Now I'm here, I guess." She motioned for Shayne to talk, gesturing for him to go when he uncertainly opened and closed his mouth.

"I'm- okay I'm Shayne. I'm 19 and a foster kid. I've been shuttled around crappy families and towns since I was six, and I finally got on my own feet last year. Noah called me a couple of weeks ago and said that if I was back in Los Santos, he'd have a job for me. Well, here I am." Feeling overwhelmed, he sunk back in his chair and began to fidget with his hands.

"Hey, I get shitty families," Ian murmured. "A lot of us do. But you're going to like it here. Los Santos isn't all bad." Everyone echoed the sentiment, awkwardness lingering in the air.

"Sooooo..." Flitz sighed, sitting forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the table. Fingers drummed an offbeat rhythm as the silence continued. "Are we still going to Sarah and Celia's or what?"

"Oh, thank god someone said it. I need a drink." Olivia proclaimed above the chorus of 'yes' that arose. Chairs were hurriedly pushed in as the store cleared of excited young adults, eager to get some food and drink in their systems.

"You coming?" Anthony asked softly, turning towards Shayne.

"Am I invited? I wasn't sure, I just got here and I can go back to the motel if-"

"You're obviously invited, newbie. We want to get to know you- alcohol optional, of course." The older man winked, motioning for Shayne to come out the door with him. "Hurry up or you'll get stuck in Joven's car. You don't want to be in Joven's car." So Shayne followed him. In Ian's car.

\--

( **sneaky lil pov switch heheee)**

Courtney hated alcohol. She hated it with a fiery passion, hated it like she hated nothing else. 

And, on top of the fact that all her friends were tipsy (if not worse), her sober buddy was currently incapacitated with Mari on his lap and her tongue down his throat. She was very drunk- Wes was very sober. Horny college kids, she internally labeled them. And Sohinki, the typical rom-com best friend, hopelessly in love with the girl. He was already on his third drink and growing increasingly sour.

Not that you needed to be drunk to be sour. Courtney's only just begun to get herself settled here, started to trust and gain trust with her co-workers- well, new 'family'. Then Shayne Topp waltzes into town, shy, sensitive, fucked up, and ridiculously attractive. Now she isn't getting new girl treatment, just Courtney treatment, and she wants to have the safety net of that newness a little while longer. It's a selfish thought, but she doesn't care until he sits next to her at the kitchen counter, full solo cup in hand.

"Are Noah and Keith always this crazy?" He asked, setting the drink down dangerously close to the edge of the ledge. "I mean, I've known Noah could be a bit intense sometimes, but this is a new level."

"They call themselves the dynamic dick duo when they're sober. Now they're drunk."

"Yeah, they mentioned that. They've been trying to shove drinks in me for an hour, but I don't really drink."

"Me neither." Turning away from him slightly, she observed the scene of Noah and Keith drunkenly singing an off-key rendition of "Closer to Fine" by the Indigo Girls in the living room. It filled the awkward silence uncomfortably, the two of them alone in Sarah's kitchen while their friends chatter outside. Neither of them wants to admit how out of place they feel until Olivia comes in. 

"Hey, you two. Shayne, how you liking Sarah's place?" She sputtered out, swallowing a sip of her drink. _Champagne mixed with lemonade gets her tipsy but not really drunk, her favorite._ Courtney noted as she peered slightly into her best friend's glass. 

"It's nice, very nice. I've only seen a few rooms, though. Do you guys come here often?"

"Yes-" Courtney jumped in, feeling bold and throwing caution to the wind. "We're together a _lot_ after hours around here." Olivia shot her a sharp warning look, but before either could interject, Anthony burst into the room.

"Fuck. I just got a call from Matt Raub. Shit's going down at the port tonight, by the warehouses. Get ready," he grimly ordered as he shoved his phone in his pocket. "This wasn't supposed to happen tonight. We're all drunk and the shipment wasn't due for three days and it's the kid's first day and we're ridiculously unprepared fuck fuck fuck" He kept muttering curses as he sped out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Courtney smirked as she danced her fingers over her boot, uncrossing her twitching legs and removing the hidden knife as she hopped off the barstool. 

"Hey, mind if I borrow that tonight?" Olivia hastily questioned. "Sarah has something for you in a cabinet somewhere, I'm sure of it. Also, I'm an idiot and didn't expect this tonight. Shit, this is really happening, isn't it?" Courtney tossed her the dagger and dashed over to one of the ebony cupboards, ransacking until she found a handgun. Mediocre, but it'd do. Shayne was watching the events unfold with disbelief on his face, the bewilderment somewhat adorable, albeit pitiful.

"What- what's going on? Why the hell are you holding a gun, why is Anthony yelling, what- what even-"

"Calm down, new guy, and follow us," Courtney whispered as she and Olivia strolled past him and out of the kitchen to join the assembling forces. "Welcome to work."

\--

 **a/n-** oh my god. this beast of a chapter kind of morphed into a 2.8k word monster, which is so weird for me (this was so so so so so so so so long if you made if this far congratufreakinlations) i've spent hours transcribing this from my random thoughts and notebooks and i hope this ends up answering some of the broader questions you readers have had from some of the previous chapters. please enjoy this, long and messy and random as it might be. i love where this story is going, and i love you guys for reading it and sticking with me. PLEASE leave comments about anything, because i'll definitely answer- i love talking to people :) once again, thanks for reading! big phat thank yous all around


	4. three- 'bonding'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff, filler

Damien had been the newest recruit into the ragtag crew. Sure, it was only a month or so after Boze showed up, but he felt like he didn't exist other than being Shayne's best friend. An outsider, an outcast among the outcasts. And sure, he thought everyone liked (or tolerated) him well enough. But there were just too many people there already. He didn't fit into that.

Whether it was a workday or not, someone would always be at the store- actually, more often than not, everyone would sit in the back room while a couple of their friends ran the shop outside. And that was how Damien slowly began to settle in.

Shayne had Noah and their little tribe, the newbies with jokes and play-fighting and constant excitement. But Damien was there a year too late, a hair too shy, a touch too nerdy and serious. So he sat quietly, reading a book or idly scrolling through Pinterest in a corner while Boze made herself at home with the "older kids". Gradually, he found himself inching closer to their chattering huddle.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, he and Boze took the early morning shifts, making small talk as they made the drinks. Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, he eavesdropped on the conversations in the center of the room- Joven, Mari, Sohinki, David, Flitz, Wes, and Boze, discussing nothing and everything. A particularly quiet Tuesday, about two months after he started working at My Favorite Coffee, Mari noticed him wistfully staring at the shiny back of Flitz's head. (Wes was wearing his cap today.)

"Hey, you, pull up a chair, why don't you? We're watching Boze absolutely decimate Joven at Mario Kart." Sure enough, Boze was kicking Joven's ass on the Nintendo Switch, whooping and cheering erupting from either side of the players.

"The room's soundproofed, don't worry," Wes murmured to Damien. "You'll find out why eventually. Right now it's not important. Anyway, do you play?"

"Play what, Mario Kart? I mean, yeah, who doesn't?" Damien joked, prompting Wes to chuckle.

"Joven, apparently."

"I was a god at this in high school- my friends and I had weekend tournaments and I almost always won, not to flex," the brunette bashfully remarked.

"Fuck it," Joven threw the words out of his mouth as he abruptly threw down his controller. "Noah better make me a damn good coffee."

"Hey, wanna take my spot?" Boze asked, flashing a real smile at Damien and making his heart unexplainably flutter.

"Only if I can play him," Wes cut in, picking up the remote Joven had discarded before his exit.

"Oh, you're so on!" And with that? Damien was in.

\--

"You didn't tell us you were turning the big 2-1 today!" David protested as Damien tried (and failed) to escape Sohinki's 'birthday punches'.

"In my defense, I was already drinking, so it wasn't obvious. Also, I don't make a big deal of birthdays, and you guys didn't know me last year; it's never come up," He squeaked.

"Still," Boze, who was strangle-hugging him fiercely, laughed. "We're going out. Ian and Anthony haven't called anyone but those five-" She gestured into the shop outside. "For tonight's shift, so we're free. Let's be normal young adults and shit! Clubbing and drinking because it's our off day tomorrow, Joven's paying, try and look hot." Winking, she finally let go off her friend.

"Sure, because clubbing is totally normal." His sarcasm was met with blank stares. "Okay, that was mostly just joking, but seriously. Guys. I'm just turning 21! Is this absolutely necessary?"

"It is. It totally is. Oh sweet lord, Damien, we're going out." Joven cried with mock horror across his face. "Meet at Wes and Flitz's apartment at 6, don't be late, look sexy, and I am NOT paying, thank you."

"Okay, but no gay bars," Wes called in response as he left the room. "We don't need a repeat of-"

"Shh!" And that was that.

\--

And that, that was how Damien ended up half-drunk in a tattoo parlor, watching Dave think of a crazy tattoo idea.

"Got it! It's a unicorn, but with an AK-47!"

"Lasers are cooler..." Joven slurred, under a needle next to him. 

"Yes. Laser unicorn. Lasercorn. A Lasercorn!" The tattoo artist nodded, setting to work on the back of his shoulder. Flitz was almost finished with his ankh, claiming that it should've been placed closer to his heart- he was arguably the soberest of the drinkers. Damien watched this unfold in front of him, as well as Mari receiving her enormous design; she'd brought a drawing of the butterfly wings she'd wanted splaying across her back. This impulsive decision had been her idea, after all, though she'd be too hungover to remember that.

Wes was getting the word "stronger" inked over his spine in subtle cursive, right over his previous injury; Sohinki was holding ice to his foot, having finished the tiny drawing of the Star of David on his ankle minutes before.

"Damien, come lookit this," Joven muttered, waving the boy over to his bench. The artist was illustrating a complicated set of gears and cogs over Joven's left chest (around his heart), an intricate design stretching over several inches. "I've almost died a lot. This is right over my dumb heart- it keeps on beating, won't quit."

"Mhm- that's really deep." Damien nodded, trying to maintain eye contact while Joven's eyes fluttered shut with the twinging pain of the needle. Suddenly, Boze called "Dames!" and he stopped paying attention to anyone but her. Her.

"Can I squeeze your hand or something? See, I'm getting this removed and it's going to hurt like hell."

"I thought Biz Boss Boze didn't feel pain?" He quipped, earning a smirk and an eye roll.

"I have feelings too, idiot. I'm strong, just warning you." She took his hand and everything went purple. Blinding purple. Flashes of guns and echoes of gunshots flew through his vision, one particular image pausing at the forefront of his mind. Himself, holding a handgun, firing at a target, which morphed into a dummy- then a human. He screamed, at least, internally. And everything turned to purple again.

Boze was squeezing his hand tightly, her iron grip not bothering him as much as he'd expected. Even though his mind was reeling and he was starting to get a headache (whether it be from the alcohol or the frightening vision), everything was still normal. Yes, everything was going on the way it had been before he closed his eyes.

"Hey! You ready to stop zoning out? I'm all done, you can let go now!" Boze whispered, smiling at him from her awkward position on the table. "This been a good birthday?" Her hopeful smile says enough for him to nod- as if it wasn't already true. He and his best friends, being reckless and impulsive and free and just _being_ with each other, living for once.

"The goodest. Or, well, best. Yeah, that's the word. Thank you for doing this, Boats." She was sitting up now, fully tattooless and awake and suddenly soberer.

"What did you call me?"

"Um, Boze?"

"No, I'm positive you said Boats, dumbass." She threw her head back and cackled, her laughter filling the dark and empty corner of the store they were still sitting in, tattoo artist long gone.

"You love this dumbass though, and just threw him an amazing birthday party."

"Glad I could stop you from spending your night drinking tea and reading Les Mis, doofus." Boze sprung up from the bench, kissing him on the cheek- he's now forgotten about the strange vision. But not her. No, she remained in his mind.

And then Joven threw up in a trash can.

\--

 **a/n-** sorry that ending sentence eye- i just didn't think the other one was a good conclusion so bam light comedy shit stuff yeah

this was just some fluff, character relationship building, dynamic establishing, major filler because next chapter *hint hint it's narrated in 4 povs of the girdies* is a D O O Z Y

ily readers, this story is literally taking over my life now, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i love writing it


	5. four- frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the gorls

"Fuck!" Ian groaned, slamming his head onto the keyboard and nearly snapping his glasses in half. "It's been six hours, you've _got_ to be _shitting_ me!" Courtney, biting her lip, slumped over the back of his chair.

"What's got you in a funk, boss?" She singsonged, peering at the puzzling lines of code and binary on the computer screen.

"Stupid encryption bullshit. Celia and I have been trying to hack into this server for hours now, and just as we're finally getting somewhere, another line of defense mechanisms kicks in, sending us right back to square one. I can't believe it's this finely hidden- I didn't think the BB had enough resources to create this trap. Six hours, Court. Six. Hours."

"Well, if we had Joven-"

"Don't say that. I'm not him. I can get into code about the level of a high school grade book, but that's it. I'm just not him. I'm trying- I'm trying to fill his shoes, but it's hard. It's hard." He looked like he was about to cry. Courtney had never, not once in the four years she'd known him, seen Ian cry."

"When was the last time you slept? Ate anything?" She questioned, concern flooding her face. His grim expression preceding his answer was frightening.

"Maybe yesterday. I think I ate one of the donuts Noah got from Postmates, and I haven't slept for a while...fuck."

"Ian, this isn't healthy. You're trying to do the work of three people and forgetting about the one amazing guy you are. Where did Papa Ian go?" She joked, turning his chair to face her in hopes that she'd gotten through to him. "Smile at me. Go on, do it," Courtney urged once more. The half-grimace, half-smile he offered was enough.

\--

Technically, she wasn't supposed to be out in public alone, especially not after Flitz. Olivia shuddered, remembering the panic and anguish of that afternoon. But she had a knife in her pocket, another in her boot. Ian was too preoccupied with his hacking dilemma to notice her quietly slip out of the apartment, so she hadn't had to shimmy out a third-story window this time.

Every day had slipped into a vicious cycle: wake up, either work in the cafe all day or watch crappy television (Sohinki never told them the Disney Plus password), eat a few times, talk to her friends a bit, sleep, wake up and do it all again. Today was a Tuesday, one of her off days. Instead of watching America's Next Top Model reruns, she was watching the real world. Watching _him_.

Dark hair, dark eyes, baseball cap like her own. Straightening her 'disguise' atop her curled ponytail, she wryly thought, _Call me a regular Joe Goldberg_. Every day, baseball cap walked into the bakery next to the coffee shop, emerging with two danishes (one strawberry, one plain). He made his way to the newspaper stand on the next block, to the bus stop where he always greeted the driver with a smile and tip of his hat.

She watched him from her bench on the corner, peering over her New Yorker magazine and wincing as the cold hair slapped her face. He was handsome, sure, but she was drawn to him for some unexplainable reason. This particular day, Olivia decided on a whim to hop on the bus behind him. It wasn't until she was plopped down in the seat next to him that she realized just how bad and irrational of a decision this had been. Heart racing and eyes flitting between faces and bodies, she became increasingly aware of her surroundings: bus, old people, change, wallets and cigarettes dropped and forgotten, a handsome man sitting two inches away from her and threatening her cover.

"Hi." WHAT

"Jesus Christ-" Olivia sighed as she clapped a hand over her heart, realizing the voice had just come from the guy she'd casually been stalking for weeks.

"Actually, I'm just Sam, but you can call me that if you'd like." Sam. She liked that name. Was this...flirting? Wow, she needed to get out more.

"Um, you just scared me. Hi...Sam." He smiled, no teeth. Cute.

"Got a name?"

"Oh- Tori. Victoria, but I'm called Tori." She had to hunt for the lie, the practiced words spilling off her tongue after she was able to tear her eyes away from his. _Get a grip, idiot. He's just a boy, and this is so incredibly risky Ian would yell at you if he knew you were here talking to a stranger and being so careless you're going to get in so much trouble if he finds out anything-_

"Got a number, Tori?" _Danger, Will Robinson,_ she murmured to herself, opening her mouth before considering the consequences. She rattled off her number, her fucking phone number, and let him enter it into his phone, trying to act calm when she felt the vibration of his text in her pocket. In a fog, she hurried off the bus and out of their small talk at the next stop. The return bus took an eternity to approach, and as she mounted the steps, she could've sworn she saw a flash of purple hair out of the corner of her eye.

 _No._ It couldn't have been. But still, she pressed her face to the window on her way home, praying she'd see Mari again.

\--

Darkness. That was all Mari could see- nothing. She couldn't tell if this was another day, another hour, another year later than the last time she'd woken up. Time seemed to pass in fitful bursts where she was now, skipping and playing with her brain as its own unique form of torture. God, torture. Who knew what her friends were going through? _If anything happens to them, I swear to god, someone's getting their ass destroyed. If something happens to Wes- I-_ as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of the big doofus getting hurt straight-up broke her heart in two.

Slowly, brown orbs adjusted to the painfully empty room, devoid of light and life. She wasn't chained up anymore, instead tied to a chair in the center of the floor. Was this the same room she'd been confined to for so long- had it been long enough to say 'so long'? Had it only been days, or had she been in this odd limbo for longer than that?

Footsteps erupted out of nowhere, her highly trained ears suddenly picking up on the subtle noise. Someone was here. Twisting her body as much as her restraints allowed, Mari swiveled around and nearly screamed when she saw the figure in the black ski mask and suit behind her. Her instinct commanded her to get away, but his eyes begged her to stay and stay quiet. With nimble fingers and unnatural speed, the mysterious figure pressed a finger to his lips and untied her bonds. Her limbs regained some feeling, and she sprung to her feet without a sound. 

_Thank you, ballet,_ she silently repeated as the shadowy figure led her to the side of the room. There was a painted-over trapdoor in the middle of the wall, and he opened it, motioning for Mari to crawl inside the little tunnel he revealed. Obliging, she glanced back at the disappearing room, praying that she wasn't being taken into more danger.

It was, in fact, a man in the black jumpsuit, for after closing the door he'd removed his mask and ruffled his reddish-brown hair.

"So, Mari, where's my thank you?" Within a heartbeat, she had him pressed against the wall of the tunnel.

"Tell me right now why I shouldn't kill you. Who the hell are you, who sent you, and why are you kidnapping me?" Her gaze was icy, and she felt a familiar surge of power holding his throat in her grip. God, she'd missed this.

"Relax, girl. I'm Nick. Nick Morgan. I was sent by a friend, and also by myself, but that's all I can afford to tell you for now. I'm sure our paths will cross again, no doubt. I thought I was saving you from getting kidnapped, unless-"

"What friend?"

"See, if I told you, that friend of ours would kill me, so I'm afraid I can't tell you that. But he said that if you didn't believe me, I should say the words "Jiggle Physics" and you'd know that he had good intentions. Believe that I'm not trying to hurt you now?" Mari's heart stopped. Only her coworkers and a few treasured friends and confidants would know the meaning of those two words, originally a joke, but now code for "trust me, everything's all right, I've got you". Whoever this 'friend' was, she was more or less safe having them send Nick to break her out of that godforsaken room.

"Shouldn't we leave now?" She asked, finally releasing the taller man.

"Yeah," he muttered, massaging his throat. "I have a package to pick up on our way out. Get ready- it's a bit of a walk." They went into silence, Mari trying to think of her current fucked-up situation and make sense of this all. She and her team got kidnapped by people they didn't know. They were separated. She was freed by another strange man. She'd been walking through a dirty underground tunnel for twenty-three minutes according to her internal clock. Finally, they reached a ladder, Nick beginning to climb and looking down at her when she didn't follow.

"We're climbing to a safe landing. Then, you're going to close your eyes until I say to open them. Then we change clothes and head outside. You go home safe, I get lost, you go into hiding. Now hurry so we get completely out of their system unscathed." So she climbed, questions spinning in her head before she reached the aforementioned landing and closed the lid of the ladder hole. 'Safe'.

"Eyes!" Nick reminded, prompting Mari to squeeze hers tightly shut and cross her arms. "And- open," he called thirty-seven seconds later. She opened them to rest on a familiar face and close-cropped head of brown hair that she'd never been happier to see. Sohinki enveloped her in a hug before she could utter a word, neither able to find expression.

"Thank god you're okay," he murmured, Mari only managing a dazed nod in response. Separating, they quickly changed into the street clothes Nick provided for them, seemingly conjured out of thin air. They emerged from the stairs out of the landing, breathed fresh air, and turned around to find their savior gone.

"Hey, I recognize this place! This is like 15 minutes from our usual bus stop!" Mari offered, taking Sohinki's hand. "Operation Marhinki A?"

"Why not?" Sohinki rolled his eyes, squeezing her hand and leading her down the street. They reached the familiar stop within the time she'd said, boarding the bus and paying with the cards Nick had left in their pockets. He'd really thought of everything, whoever this guy was.

"Our stop," Sohinki quietly said when the bus rolled to a third halt. The pair dismounted and approached the coffee shop pretending to be a couple perusing the taped-up menu, observing the closed sign. It was an early Tuesday afternoon, so why were they closed?

"Let's try the back," was murmured in unison, and they checked to make sure no one was walking past before dashing to the back of the store. The entrance was locked, so they rang the buzzer and pressed their eyes one by one to the scanner. The camera swiveled away and back towards them.

"Wait-" Mari stopped Sohinki from entering the code on the keypad that had emerged from the brick wall. "The clothes could be bugged or have a tracker." They stripped to their underwear, a tank top and shorts for both, discarding the clothing in the dark corner of the lot.

"Pinecones are better than Joven," they directed towards the speaker, Mari darting away to swipe the Ventra cards from the otherwise empty pockets.

"What?" She'd later defend herself. "They might come in handy." An invisible tube opened up from the concrete and dropped them underground, the conveyor belt they'd installed years before ushering them forward. The elevator they entered was familiar, and as it carried them up to their old apartment's entrance, Mari's heart skipped a beat. Sohinki (ever the gentleman, that awesome best friend of hers) helped her off the ride, dragging her to the door they'd enter a thousand times.

Loud arguing was evidently taken place, Ian and Olivia's voices the most prevalent. The pair could hear snippets of "I got home five minutes ago, can't this wait?" and "This was so irresponsible of you" and "Trust means something, you know!" from behind the door. If Mari had to take a stab at it, she'd say Olivia had done something reckless again, stressing Ian out majorly, and that was why the store was closed. She paused to look down at herself, observing the bruises on her upper arms and the cut on her leg. Sohinki had similar marks on his body, the two looking worse for the wear as they waited for the commotion within to die down.

Tentatively, Sohinki reached out a hand and knocked four times, the rhythm of the motion the same code they'd kept for three years now. The shouting ceased and an incredibly weary-looking Ian answered once the percussive motion finished, eyes wide and bloodshot.

"Hey, Ian," Mari whispered, voice breaking. "We're home,"

\--

She was stuck in the frozen position, legs crossed, hands by her sides, against a wall- she couldn't see anything but the illuminated table and photograph atop it. A picture that was taken of her and Damien on their first date, wide smiles and innocent eyes.

"Where is the boy?" the voice asked again, maybe for the millionth time. A burning pain erupted from behind her eyes, urging her to- the table flipped and the frame fell to the ground with a sickening crack.

"Excellent, but that won't do. Now, don't make me ask again, Miss Bozeman. Where. Is. Damien. Haas?"

\--

 **a/n-** switchy povs, and a chapter all abt the gorls! if u can't tell olivia saw mari on her way home :) i love this chapter so much for real and i hope you do too :) love you readers so much, can't wait for the next chapter :) comment vote and tell me to stop using this emoticon :)


	6. five- back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flashback chapter the last FOR NOW

Damien didn't like to talk much about before. Before he knew Shayne, before he knew what clean water tasted like, before he knew that he could call a place home.

Sad-sack orphan novels were never his type, the books seemingly jumping out at him to cry "look, you can relate!" He'd grown up in a homeless shelter with his mother, a young woman who'd been saddled with a baby and a life she didn't want at just 19 years old. Depression seemed to haunt them, stealing her away for good when Damien was only four years old. 

The other orphans were adopted in cycles, but he remained there untouched for two years. The Haas' came into the makeshift orphanage when Damien (last name long-forgotten) was six years old, little blonde boy trailing behind them. The two were instructed to play in the bedroom while the adults talked, the little boys quickly joking and laughing with the Goodwill trucks and action figures provided for them. About forty minutes later, they walked out of that shelter for good.

Damien's mom and dad didn't tell him until later, much later, that they decided to be his foster parents so Shayne (who'd stayed with them in the system for several months and won their hearts) would have a brother. How they'd sent in applications to adopt them both, but only Damien's went through. How Shayne was shuttled off to a new family. How Damien both gained and lost his brother and his best friend in a matter of several months.

But his parents had taken him out of the impoverished limbo between misery and happiness, made him feel loved for the first time in- maybe, ever. And slowly, slowly, memories of Shayne slipped away. And then, when Damien was 20 and taking his second gap year, when college didn't seem like it would work out after all, when he couldn't find work or a place to sleep in the unfamiliar city he thought he'd have a fresh start in- Instagram worked its magic, linking their profiles when Damien signed on with his last name. 

His last name, the beacon shining in the darkness that his life was collapsing into. Yes, it worked its magic, getting Damien and job, and more importantly, his brother back.

\--

Damien liked Boze almost from the moment he met her. Liked how she laughed at his bad jokes and puns to make him feel better about the misfires, liked that she laughed loudly and didn't care what people thought about her, liked her as more than a friend (but didn't realize it). Her smile was infectious, making him happier daily; her presence made him keep his job, frankly. She made him coffee when he stumbled into work too tired to see straight, hit him upside the head when he asked her stupid questions. (He deserved it, mostly.)

She balanced him out, made him feel like his own whole and important person. Joven would often tease him throughout the day, making lewd comments when he was alone with the younger man. He'd tease Damien about going googly-eyed at Boze when they talked, which he most definitely didn't do. He thought.

But then they started texting constantly. Talking about forbidden and weird topics. Hanging out 24/7. Becoming each other's closest confidantes. And there were definitely at least 24 drunken hookups by the time they were 22. Hell, Damien loved her by then. He loved her beyond the deep familial bond they all shared, loved her like a boy meeting a girl of his dreams and not knowing how to act. And, finally-

She loved him back.

So they went on a date, then a couple more, then several more. They kissed, talked, cooked and ate food, kissed, made coffee at work and at home, played games, kissed some more, played games, pranked Joven, beat the aforementioned games, and definitely had sex a few times. They did everything together and then-

Boze and the rest of their friends- gone. Vanished. Nothing.

So Damien swore, swore that he'd fight and shoot and kill without mercy, do whatever it took for life to be restored. He'd do anything, anything to get her back.

She also owed him five dollars. She'd bet that Shayne and Courtney wouldn't accept their obvious feelings for each other by now, he'd bet that they would, they hadn't.

But still. Nothing was going to hold him back. That's what he told himself as he pulled the trigger, firing away into the darkness before their enemies became clear and beyond shadows. The *thud* of several bodies hitting the concrete floor wasn't enough. It wasn't until he was sure he'd picked off as many as he could that he was anywhere near satisfied, felt any remorse. It was for her. The scared look in Olivia's eyes as she checked the pulse of the last fallen enemy caused his heart to skip slightly. Shayne's form lurking in the corner, gun dangling pathetically at his side, caused it to restart his beat. They shouldn't be feeling like this. They didn't have to, not if he found their friends and took them home. 

He'd do anything, anything to get them back.

\--

a/n- kinda fell apart at the end there whoopsie daisies that was acc really bad but heres a short update some damien soliloquYYYYYY (reference) for ya

basically it's gettin to the present day action stuff

flashbacks will be explicitly stated and formatted differently

it's time to get this mofo going

-emmeline (ily)

i listen to one direction too much someone stop me


	7. six- (hopeless) romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sohinki reminisces.

Sohinki was _not_ a romance type of guy. Of course, he hadn't had much experience in the relationship department. If the girl wasn't scared off by the drugs- well, he'd never gotten that far. But Mari made him want to buy bouquets of roses and throw them at her feet, watch The Notebook over and over again along with other sickening romance films, have an actual meaningful relationship. 

He really thought he had a shot, really thought he could take their friendship beyond- well, that, friendship. He thought he could get the girl, and then an oddly buff, sensitive, painfully handsome man-child showed up, ruining Sohinki's 20th birthday party and his chance with the girl of his dreams. Life really sucked sometimes.

And yet he never got over the girl of his dreams. Nope. If there was a picture under the dictionary definition of pining, he'd be that image. It'd been just about seven years of wishing it was him in her arms, seven years leading up to a fucking hostage situation where all he could think of was her, her safety, her well-being, her. Hoping there was still _her_.

\--

_His favorite memory with Mari was probably the first road trip. Maybe three months after they'd gotten jobs at the coffee shop, maybe four, the six friends had decided to drive around the middle of nowhere for a week. Staying in various hotels, swimming (or skinny-dipping) in passing lakes, sleeping under the stars- it was like the teenage years of experiences addiction had stolen from Matt. Mari was turning nineteen at the end of the trip, so they all classified it as a birthday celebration. She was elated._

_Ian and Anthony rode in the front of their beat-up blue pickup truck, Joven and Lasercorn in the backseat with food and the 'suitcases'. Mari and Sohinki sat in the bed of the vehicle, a little speaker and a variety box of chip bags all they had with them. Mari was streaming One Direction, her favorite band from adolescence, and he just watched, watched her sing along to nearly every song._

_The sky was a bright purplish-blue, the highway was a blur behind them, and she was glowing in the piercing sunlight. She looked blissful, radiant, and then the song '18' came on._

_"Oh god, this was my favorite song ever. I remember hearing this for the first time and crying because of how good it was. Like, middle school me is quaking right now, I was such a crazy Directioner." Mari uttered with nostalgia, wistfulness, and the slightest layer of tears in her eyes._

_"I actually know this song," he murmured, not mentioning that it'd been playing at the first party he shot up at. "It's good."_

_"It's better than good, Sohin! It's great. It's fucking great." She threw her head back and screamed the chorus, smiling widely into the cotton candy clouds of the approaching sunset. "I have loved you since we were eighteen," she called, golden light striking their faces. Sohinki was subconsciously mouthing the words as he gazed at her. **Long before we both thought the same thing, to be loved, to be in love.**_

_**Well, we're eighteen. And I think I'm pretty much in love with you,** he thought, wanting to hit himself for thinking that. But no. He didn't hit himself. He just smiled, slung his arm around his best friend, got in her 'golden hour' selfie. He hadn't felt like shooting up all day. He'd just felt like enjoying the last chunk of childhood, hanging with his best friends, falling in love a little. And it felt pretty goddamn great._

_\--_

**_all I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you  
i wanna love like you made me feel  
when we were 18_ **

\--

Now, things were way more complicated. Like, very very complicated. Throw in Wes, getting into gunfights and armed robbery shit, and a kidnapping he barely escaped alive, and he was pretty much *ew* cock-blocked. Had been for five, five and a half years- damnit, silver hair. Who was also one of his best friends and brothers, but still.

Now he was sitting on the apartment couch, holding an ice pack to his throbbing head and watching Mari again. They'd been home for about three and a bit hours, and their exhaustion was catching up to them. He thought he was going to explode from the terrific pressure attacking his skull, this migraine like none he'd ever had before. Not even when he was hungover or coming down from a high or in H withdrawal. This was excruciating pain. He hadn't even felt this way that one time he'd gotten shot, which really said something either about his pain tolerance or his delusionality.

Mari was idly scrolling through Instagram, legs propped up in Sohinki's lap, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Ian had grilled them for as much as they knew about their kidnapping, but both of their memories were fuzzy up until the escape. He'd then continued to reprimand Olivia, apparently for sneaking out of the house (again?) and locked himself in his office shortly after. Matt was tired. He was bone-crushingly, undeniably, so incredibly tired. And the fact that his head was being split open didn't help that at all, so this was evidently not a great day.

"Where did Nick get you from?" Mari suddenly asked, glancing up at him from her screen.

"Um, white room, no furniture, just me locked in and tied to a chair. He opened a trapdoor behind me, untied me, and took me through some nasty tunnels until we got to the stairs where he left me," he said, struggling to remember through the pounding of his head.

"That was me, but with a pitch-black room, and I changed from being chained up to tied up at some point. I can barely remember anything; I kept drifting in and out of sleep the entire time. It was torture." She shuddered, blowing a stubborn strand of hair out of her line of sight.

"At least your room was dark- mine was blindingly light, so I don't think I was able to sleep much."

"Sohin, we were in there for three weeks. If you were barely sleeping, no wonder you have a headache, you've got to be exhausted! You probably have a fever, from what I can feel you're burning up." She was touching his arms now, touching his face and nodding her head to her earlier claim.

"Don't go into Mama Mari mode on me," he quipped, yawning to prover her point.

"Get some sleep, dumbass." She shifted so she could hop off the sofa, quickly pressing her lips to his forehead as she walked to the edge of the carpet. "Tomorrow, we find out who took our friends and how to get them back. But today, you need some rest. G'night, Matt." Quietly padding footsteps were all he detected as she exited the living room.

No. He wasn't a romantic guy. He was definitely still in love with his best friend, though, and he was fine with the way it was.

\--

 **a/n-** one sided marhinki hurts my heart but i have never written wesari so this should be fun in the future chapters

yeah this is slow moving and not the longest it could've been but it's an update! 

ILY GUYS THANKS FOR PUTTING UP WITH AND READING MY CRAP


	8. seven- enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mari and matt may have returned, but tensions are high and there's a lot of work to do (shitty summaries are back)

Whenever they went to Sarah's flat, the mood was typically festive. Not this strange, sad feeling of loss and exhaustion. Within fifteen minutes, Mari was already drinking red wine and unloading complaints onto Olivia, Courtney silently observing with a faraway look in her eyes. Ian had a strange ringing in his ears, almost (but not quite) drowning out Sohinki's repeated request for "drugs, all the drugs". Painkillers, he assumed- hoped.

Whenever they went to Sarah's place, they'd actually talk to each other, play board/video games, order takeout and fight over splitting the bill. But now, they're literally sitting in silence, something almost unheard of. Mari's run out of things to say and Sohinki found a sufficient amount of Advil. They're both covered in a sufficient amount of scrapes, cuts, and bruises, and it makes Ian sick to his stomach. He doesn't even want to know what would've happened if the mysterious "Nick Morgan" hadn't broken them out of wherever they'd been. What if their other friends had been subject to worse?

"Okay. This is weird." Celia murmured to the air, earning a nod from Shayne and a sigh from Sarah. "Is it too much to ask that we pretend this is a month ago, with everyone here? Because you're all scaring me by being quiet." She ran a hand through her tousled blonde ringlets, eyes scanning the room for any sign of life.

"Um, how are Adam and Tyler?" Olivia questioned in a valiant attempt to kickstart a conversation, wincing as Ian's gaze fell upon her. Ouch. He wasn't even that mad anymore.

"Fine! Healthy, happy," the blonde trailed off, her husband and son filling her eyes with visible love and warmth that didn't extend to the rest of the kitchen. "Uh, Matt, do you need more ice?" she followed, ushering into the kitchen while he slowly nodded.

"It's still in the upper drawer of the freezer, Cels," Sarah called, piping up from her seat in the corner. Ian watched as Shayne and Damien exchanged tense glances, as Courtney picked at a stray stripe of fuschia nail polish, watched as Olivia idly hummed to herself while stacking coasters on a table. In slow motion, Noah leaned over to show Keith a picture on his phone, and both started hysterically laughing, cutting through the silence like daggers. Sarah's eyes darkened, and Ian had known her long enough to tell that she was about to explode.

"Don't fucking laugh, you idiots. Take something seriously for once. You guys don't come to my house to look at butts or memes or whatever the hell you're cackling at, so try and offer something useful to the conversation, why don't you? I'm sick of you. If you need me, I'll be with the sick one." Huffing angrily, the brunette stormed out of the room, plastic creaking slightly as she favored her right leg.

"We just-"

"Save it, Keith. It's not the time nor the place." Ian groaned, setting his untouched drink down and his head in his hands. "Someone, say something productive or I'll implode."

"I think you should get some sleep and let me handle things for a day or so," Shayne offered. "You look like a wreck, Ian. Not to say I don't- we all do, let's be honest- but you need to let us do something before you overwork yourself to the breaking point."

"Keith and I can do a deep dive on this Nick guy, maybe ask Celia to help us, can't we, buddy?" Noah elbowed the black boy, eliciting a wince as a sharp bone met his ribs. Damien held back a chuckle, surprised as anyone at the noise emitting from his mouth.

"And I can place and handle the grocery order this week. It's the least I can do." Olivia subconsciously curved her body towards Courtney, the other girl angling herself towards their boss.

"I'll catch Mars and Sohin up on everything they've missed, of course," she brightly chattered. "You should rest, maybe go down into the shop for a bit! Take a day off-"

"You're all skirting around the topic at hand. Sohinki and I were kidnapped. Sohinki and I escaped. I have a vague idea of where we escaped from." Mari was standing now, hands pressed on the counter on either side of her now-empty glass.

"You should've said that before we even got here."

"I know. And I'm sorry, but you were all busy and sad- I am too, don't get me wrong. But if the others could see us right now, sitting around and doing nothing but tepidly arguing or creating busywork? They'd be disappointed, and pretty damn pissed that we weren't trying to bust them out." Before she could continue, Sarah limped- no, limped while running (sprint-limped?) back into the doorway.

"Guys. Matt Raub just called me. He sounded scared. I think they discovered something. Ian, I know you told me not to send him the data we were trying to unlock, but Celia and you combined couldn't get through it, so I forwarded it. Apparently, their new guy Tanner just had a major breakthrough- and you'll never guess what he found."

\--

"Mornings. Suck." Ian groaned, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand to eliminate any crusted drool remnants.

"Tell me about it," Sohinki murmured, peering over the edge of the bed. "Whoops. That made me way more light-headed than I expected."

"You probably still have a fever, dumbass," Ian said gently, reaching his wrist up to Matt's forehead. "Yep. Still warm. Sleep some more, why don't you?" With a final sigh, the older man pushed the tangled sheets off his torso and found his way to the bathroom.

After the failed mission that resulted in the hostages, Ian had made the aggravating decision to move everyone into the apartment above the store, but there had only needed to be 7 beds before yesterday. Now, his former room belonged to him and Matt (he lost rock-paper-scissors for the bed) while Mari used a mattress in the girl's room. If they got everyone back safely, they'd probably have to move some people to Sarah's, or their living quarters (which weren't small by any means, by the way) would become more cramped than their small business.

Yet another problem Ian would be forced to solve and manage. Great.

The mirror was spotted, filthy- it had likely been weeks since anyone cleaned this bathroom. (Seeing as it had been solely Ian's bathroom for seven months, three weeks, and two days, he couldn't blame anyone else for its lack of cleanliness.) Despite the grime coating the glass surface, he could clearly see his reflection. Boy, what a sight for sore eyes he is. Not.

In the mirror, he can't make out his blue eyes, his floppy hair, the smile lines by his eyes. All that remains is the dark circle under those faded denim irises, the careless and patchy stubble he forgets to shave for days on end, the wan half-smile he can't widen no matter how hard he tries. Shayne's right. He does look like a wreck.

He's not used to doing this alone. As he reminded himself last night, he's had help with nearly everything in his life for almost 20 years. Hell, he's been running a business for 12 of them, but he's always had Anthony there to help him cope with anything. The past several months without his best friend have been torturous, and now Ian is sinking. He suspects he's been going under since that summer day, the day when a blissful road trip returned one man short.

Willing the stubborn tears prickling his eyelids to vanish, Ian shook his head to banish the memories. The sound of running water startled him, and he realized he'd switched on the tap in his morning fog without even realizing it. The brunette splashed his face with the water, its ice-cold temperature barely registering as he scrubbed his forehead raw.

Enough moping around. Enough sitting like a hurt puppy while the others tried to make the best of their shitty year. Enough being resigned to 1/2 of Ian and Anthony. He dried his face with a ratty green towel (he really had to freshen the duo's old bathroom up a bit) and wiped any excess water from the counter before a series of sharp knocks scared him half to death.

"Who the-"

"Ian. I saw something. Open the door." Ian obliged and revealed a shaking Damien, pale as a sheet.

"What do you mean, saw?"

"Fuck, I don't know. I just- saw it. Them."

\--

HELLO MUAHAHAHAHA I'M BACK

CLIFFHANGER...

SHORT CHAPTER BUT I GOT MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS DRAFT FINALLY

PLEASE ENJOY 

UNLIKE IAN WHO ISN'T ENJOYING ANYTHING RIGHT NOW I HATE HURTING HIM :(

OH HOW I HAVE MISSED THIS


	9. eight- exhaustion

Mari was tired. Exhausted, really. Not just physically, not really physically at all, but mentally and emotionally fried. Drained. She was starting to feel empty without her friends surrounding her, a familiar sort of emptiness that grabbed her soul and wrung the life out of it like a wet towel. The sort of emptiness that ended up shoving her into a dirty, skanky nightclub before she turned 19. Sohinki was in a terrible state, Ian was depressed, Damien was heartbroken- and everyone else was equally shitty. The only thing she wanted to do was to turn back time, turn it back and hug the people she was trying to save right now. _Not even Joven farts could stop me,_ she silently chuckled.

Turning her attention to the enormous map in front of her, the young woman dragged the head of the lamp closer to the page. Damien had printed it out for her earlier that night after the- interesting trip to Sarah's. While everyone else went to bed, Mari elected to stay up a little longer and puzzle out exactly where Nick had un-kidnapped them. She absentmindedly twirled a lock of faded silver hair between two fingers as she scanned the black and white grid- maybe she'd go back to red the next time she dyed her damaged mop. Maybe she and Courtney could go together as they'd discussed months before, color their hair with the hues darker than their ledgers. 

Darker than the rusty colored pencil she gripped tightly now, scratching the grid of streets and alleyways and...subways. Had the mystery tunnel of Nick's possibly been an abandoned subway tunnel? It was around the right size, and there had been enough pipes and wires for it to be manmade and urban. She thought back to the three and a half blocks she and Sohinki had traveled from the hidden stairs to the bus stop, retracing her footsteps on the parchment only to discover that there were six subway paths within that four-block radius. The map read 1999 in the bottom right-hand corner, meaning any of these tracks could very well be ancient history by now.

It had taken her over twenty minutes to walk from hostage to help, so the tunnel extending a mere two blocks was a no. Also eliminated quickly were the two locations she knew from former (and pretty recent) use. Three left. Excitedly tracing the lines through the avenues and boulevards, she found the ending spots of the plotted tunnels within several minutes. It was getting late, but this was the only priority. Tunnel A ran straight into the river- she hadn't felt or smelled water while walking through, so that was unlikely. Tunnel B led to the museum, and she realized with a pang of recognition that while the passage was closed, people could tour the refinished attraction.

That left the last tunnel, which led to a gray square (marking a building) in the warehouse district. It was on the opposite side of the familiar territory, further from the coffee shop than the typical loaded fortresses she was used to "visiting". Definitely not one of those, not a place she could visualize or imagine. Mari quickly circled the unfamiliar building on the map, her most promising (and basically only) lead. She could talk to Matt in the morning, as he knew the district better than anyone. She could call him and ask not only about the strange location but also the news he'd delivered over drinks, but only after she finished detailing her time in captivity for the sake of the records- and her own sanity.

Starting with the basics, the girl began to scribble her fraying memories of the past few weeks onto a legal pad, the coarse noise of the blood-red pencil against paper and the monotonous ticking of the clock invading her mind. Invading her brain and erasing the lonely and longing, filling the cracks and dangerous emptiness with delirious memories and handwritten typos. Mari slumped over her work at half-past two, sleep at long last catching up to her determined sprint.

She dreamed of Wes.

\--

Mari had taken it for granted, her first serious relationship. Peter had been absolutely perfect, someone she saw herself with forever. She'd literally planned their whole future before the time they turned 18. Then he dropped the bomb that he was enlisting in the military the second he became an adult. Fun, right?

So Peter, the boy she'd fallen deeply in love with over the last three years of dating, was two days into being legal and leaving for some bootcamp bullshit in three. Obviously, they broke up. She was still a junior, he'd be overseas or some other faraway distance, and she was too damn selfish to accept his selfless decision. There was a lot of screaming, crying, breaking of hearts and picture frame on her part. Mari was lost without him, as much as she hated to admit it- she'd depended on him for so long that she could barely imagine not being with him anymore. 

She was sick of their tiny suburb and public school. She was also sick of the endless supply of birthday money that she never did anything with going completely to waste. So, she made the worst decision (but also kind of the best, looking back on it) of any teenager's life and dropped out of highschool. Just didn't come back for senior year. Mari bought a Greyhound bus ticket to Los Santos, somewhere she knew no one would look for her, and rented a tiny studio apartment. Problem was, she was 17 and lacked a high school degree: ergo, no job offers lined up. Why had she even done this? she constantly asked herself. Why _had_ she done this...

As two months came and went, she evaluated her options (ignoring the infinite missed calls and texts from her furious parents and a very shocked Peter). Stripping flashed through her mind one day, a shower thought, actually. She'd been a dancer for so many years, wasn't ugly, and had a high tolerance for perverts. It'd certainly cover rent and grocery bills. Two weeks after turning 18, she had a job, and a very well-paying one at that. 

Then, seven months later, one of her customers decided he wanted more, and cornered her outside the club before she could take the bus home. She'd been harassed plenty of times before, but this was by far the scariest and worst moment of her life. She felt dirty, guilty, disgusting as the creep put his hands on her, but thankfully it had only been a matter of seconds before some guardian angel decided to smile down upon her. 

Ian saved the day, her knight in a Superman t-shirt, and insisted she come with him and get a cup of coffee to distress. Then he convinced her with a damn good cup of coffee and a silver tongue to start working for him instead. He was closer to her apartment and seemed decent enough. (As well as, you know not paying her to flirt with and grind on horny bachelor parties.) She started serving coffee several days a week with a funny guy named Matt and his friends Josh and David. Ian and his co-owner Anthony treated them so fairly, more like family than the new employees they all four were. 

Eventually it began to feel like one- a family, that is. Then Mari started to feel okay again, with the help of her five new best friends. Five messed up, testosterone filled, beautiful best friends. And 19 passed in a blur. And suddenly Mari was 20 and taking everything in her life for granted. Then, as Anthony was slicing the red velvet cake and they were rowdily singing an off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday", the doorbell rang. The man who had previously been wielding a knife carelessly chucked it in Joven's direction and answered the door, pulling it open to reveal the prettiest man Mari had seen in her entire life.

6-foot-something, leather jacket, and the most badass silver hair she'd ever laid eyes on. And he had a fucking ponytail. Hot hot hot.

"Hey, all! This is Wes Johnson. He's the new guy coming to help on your shift, Matt and Mari. I told him to stop by and meet the gang- sorry about this having to happen on your birthday, Sohinki." Anthony beckoned for 'Wes' to come out of the doorway as he spoke, and goddamn the way he walked oozed sex appeal. The birthday boy opened his mouth to say something, snarky as usual, but the warning glare he received from the older man shut up him. 

Mari continued to examine Wes as he slowly folded into a chair by the far wall. The guy looked about her age, maybe slightly younger, pretty athletic, and absolutely exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot and red, but not in the drugged way, if that made sense. She'd caught (and saved) Sohin enough times in the past to know high from drunk pretty well; silver hair over here looked familiar with the bottle. Interesting.

No one felt like finishing "Happy Birthday", so Sohinki blew out the candles and the group began shoveling cake into their mouths to excuse the awkward silence.

"So, what's your shit to share?" David asked suddenly, bored of the lack of conversation. "You a criminal? Homeless? Did Anthony save your life or something?" His words were pointed daggers, but they seemed to bounce off the newcomer like a rubber ball smacking concrete.

"Actually, he kind of did. He hooked me up with my rehab program. I had an unwanted and shocking career change that sent me into a bad place involving a _lot_ of drinking and bad decisions- this guy found me wasted in a bar and made me drink some black coffee and get help. Anthony's a really good guy, but I'm sure you all know that." For a guy of mammoth size, Wes' voice is high-pitched, but it seems to suit him. 

"Damn," Joven piped up, messily wiping cake crumbs from his chin. "How long have you been in rehab, man? That's got to suck."

"A few weeks, nowhere near long enough," Wes shakily admitted. "It's really tough."

"Tell me about it," Sohinki scoffed, earning a swift kick to the shin from Mari underneath the table.

"Shut up. It's your birthday, you're not allowed to think about that depressing crap. Wes, get some cake, I see you ogling it from over there." Her words let everyone know they can make room for Wes at the table- after all, Mari was immensely protective of them all. She took pride in knowing that she could have that power simply by being loyal to a fault and a good friend. She'd never let anyone hurt the guys, her brothers, her second family, and they all knew it. 

Besides, she liked Wes. He seemed interesting. Good or bad, she wasn't 100% sure yet. But interesting.

\--

Mari decided "good interesting" very quickly.

After the initial awkwardness, Wes got along with everyone splendidly. The man was a ray of sunshine, telling jokes and crazy stories and making everyone happier by being around him. It genuinely seemed like he'd do anything for his friends, support them and love them as much as possible. He seemed to thrive off of people, and (as cliche as it was) inspire Mari to thrive. As Anthony had mentioned, he took the third spot on Mari and Sohinki's shift, and he made staying at work on a Friday night completely enjoyable. For whatever reason, Sohin wouldn't fully warm up to him and would distance himself from the two during store hours, but Mari couldn't quite put her finger on it. Some angsty guy bs, likely. After a few months, Flitz arrived and Ian changed Wes' shift to his, meaning Mari and Wes chose to hang out and make time for each other from that point forward.

But Wes wasn't always laughter and optimism and an unhealthy chocolate addiction. He had been through some shit, his promising career as a police officer compromised when he broke a vertebrae and lost both the motivation and the ability to resume his training- he had only been 18. He'd fallen down the hole of addiction, alienated his family and former fiancee. He'd really gone through it all.

Wes was 2 am phone calls about feeling inadequate and wondering if their life decisions had really been worth it. Wes was hugging her after a particular nasty spat between her and Matt that resulted in the latter angrily leaving their flat and staying with Joven and Dave for a week. Wes was crying on his bathroom floor as Mari stroked his hair, the younger man wondering why four months of hard work had taken four hours to break. Wes was happiness and darkness, an unflinchingly real human being, and someone Mari cared deeper for than almost anyone in her life.

It took six more months until she kissed him. 

Six seconds until he kissed her back. 

Nearly six years until they were fucking kidnapped. 

Wait.

\--

Mari was jolted out of her dream? memory? by rapid knocks on the wooden door. Judging by the exasperated whine of "Mari, open up already!", she'd been sleeping through them for quite some time.

"I'm coming, assholes," she grunted, heaving herself out of the office chair and ambling to the door. "What do you want now?" 

Damien and Ian stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Shayne, the three faces clouded with similar serious expressions.

"Did you get a lead last night?" Damien asked with a whisper of fear in his voice, eyes darting quickly from her face to the messy desk behind her.

"I think I found a potential spot, yeah," she murmured, dashing back into the room to grab the map. "I was going to call Matt and ask him about it before investigating further, issat okay?"

"Sure, that's fine!" Ian hurriedly said, blue orbs lingering on Damien's expression.

"Mari, is that location you're looking into close to anything that could produce gas, smoke, exhaust? Like, the industrial kind?" 

"I mean, it's at the far edge of the warehouse district, or it was in 1999. God knows there's plenty of pipes and fumes there."

"It happened again. I saw something again." Mari barely had time to gasp before the brunette boy continued. "I saw some random masked person with that Nick guy you were saved by...I couldn't see the guy's face or any identifying features- but the important thing is what they were looking at."

"Dames, you need to get to the point a little faster." Mari gently prodded, her heart beginning to beat rapidly against her brain's wishes.

"There was a peephole and I saw Joven and Lasercorn walking through a kind of courtyard. Guards and everything. They were choking on smoke, they were outside, they were handcuffed or tied up or something. If this Nick Morgan is really on our side, you might be looking at the right place."

\-----

hello! here's a super long update hehehe

i love writing mari's character so much, and i have so many interesting twists and turns for the character relationships described in this chapter. there's also a lot of easter eggs and foreshadowing hidden so if you pick up on that i love you lmao

hope you enjoy!! lots of love and stay safe :)


	10. nine- meanwhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> filler, plot, in between (shitty summary central hehe)

yes there be some kissing if you're triggered leave xx

can't write 'smut' for shit

\--

"Mmph," Shayne groaned, throwing his head back into the couch as Courtney kissed the edge of his jaw. "Court-"

"Shut up and let me kiss you," she whispered, pressing her lips to his in a valiant effort to shut his protests down. Slowly, he melted into her touch, running his hands through her hair as they rocked against the throw pillows.

"This-" he only managed to break away for air for a split second before her mouth was silencing him again. "really isn't a good idea-"

"Isn't it, though?" She said, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde.

"I mean, I had a beer and you drank some champagne, are you like, completely sure and in your right mind-"

"Yes, Shayne, I'm making the sane and rational decision to make out with you."

"Okay," he murmured into her shoulder, the sudden implications of the situation awkwardly crashing down on him. "So is this kind of a thing now?" He nervously asked, meeting her gaze. 

"If you want it to be, I mean-" Courtney paused, pecking his lips as if to reassure herself they were still there. "I'm not just trying to have sex with you, if that's what you're getting at."

"What- no, Court, Jesus, not at all- I just meant," another kiss, "are we like a thing or not?"

"I don't know," the girl gasped, whining as his hands left her hair. "Can we not pin that down right now? That's getting heavy and emotional and goddamn I just want to kiss you right now."

"Oh, well, if you insist-" he smirked, forcefully pulling her back towards him and molding their lips together more fiercely than before.

"Dick," she moaned, hands grabbing at the back of his neck.

"You love it- wait shit that sounded douchey-"

"Nah, it was hot."

"Mm."

\--

kay that is over you're safe from my terrible *ahem* more...sexual writing :)

\--

"Okay, my turn. Truth or truth?" 

"Ugh, truth. Do you have to ask every time? God, I feel like a middle schooler right now."

"Integrity of the game. Do you not ask 'truth or dare' every round? Anyway, what was your first impression of me?"

"Oh, that's so embarrassing. I thought you were super shy and deep and this total brooding poet type- kinda missed the mark there. But I thought you were really hot!"

"Okay, that's fair."

"Your turn, truth or truth?"

"Truth, duh!"

" _Your_ first impression of _me_?"

"God, I thought you hated me. You seemed so badass and cool, so I tried to talk to you a little, but you intimidated the hell out of me. I did think you were super pretty, and your voice was really awesome."

"That's kinda sweet, actually! But I did not "hate you", you dumbass. Just...lowkey disliked for a while."

"Truth or truth?" Shayne asked, shifting his seat on the duvet cover.

"Truth!"

"Do you ever feel guilty for forgetting the others are gone? Like you'll be doing something and feeling normal and feel like they're there and then realize they're not, and you feel super bad about it?"

"All the time. I do it constantly, actually. I try to joke around and be positive, but I can only forget for a little sometimes. The only time I'm okay with it is when I'm with you because you understand it all." Courtney leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You make it seem okay to be vulnerable and take down my shell."

"Same goes for you, you know."

"I know. Truth or truth?"

"Truth. Last one, it's late."

"When did you know for sure you liked me?"

"What is this, eighth grade?"

"Hey! Just answer the question, meanie."

"I don't think it clicked for me until last week, but it's been a long time. I'm not just interested in hooking up, Courtney. You really matter to me, and I feel like I've spent too much time dancing around it."

"You're so incredible, are you even real? I swear I have to be imagining such a sweet guy like this."

"Hey-" he kissed her softly, pulling away in the dim glow of the booklight. "Real enough?"

"Definitely."

\--

They've shared a bed before, it's not new, but they kissed last night. Like, a lot. So Shayne's definitely not used to- he groans when he looks down and rolls to one side- this. He and Courtney were up until nearly one in the morning, discussing life and forgetting the one they were currently in. But today they had to return. Could anyone blame him for not wanting to?

Maybe Courtney had been more drunk than she'd let on. Maybe she didn't have real feelings for him. Maybe they'd made the wrong decision by making out on the couch. Maybe all this time he'd made the right decision by stuffing his feelings and emotions regarding her deep down until he could barely acknowledge them.

"Morning," a drowsy, feminine voice piped up from the neighboring pillow. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"You." It was the truth, after all.

"Kiss me goodbye? I should probably sneak out before someone sees us in here."

"It's not like Damien hasn't caught us in the same bed before."

"Well, it's different now, isn't it?" She paused, weighing her next words carefully. "If we're going to start something, you know, more than friends something, then we'd better keep it on the down-low. You remember-"

"The 'Mes' mess, yeah." Shayne shuddered, hoping whatever he and Courtney would do next would _never_ lead to that. "So, are we like, friends with benefits? Dating? In the middle?" Blue met green as the blonde girl contemplated his question/

"The middle, for now, I guess. The middle sounds nice. Are you gonna kiss me, crinkles?" Shayne winced at the bittersweet memories of the nickname. "Oh, shit. _Shit._ " She immediately recoiled, the look of shame on her face almost more painful than the familiar term of endearment.

"It's fine. C'mere- wait, shit, don't cry. It's fine-" He let out a very undignified grunt as a shaking Courtney launched herself at him.

"I really fucking miss her, Shayne."

"Me too," He echoed. "That's why we have to be strong and get shit done and get them back home. We can do this." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. She kissed him after several minutes, reluctantly disentangling herself him his embrace.

"Thank you, babe." He felt lighter as she left, floating on air with the pet name sweet in his ears. She was being herself with him, letting herself be upset and vulnerable and real. And he actually felt okay to do the same with her. Wow, he was a cheesy, sappy fool, but-

"Ahem," Ian and Damien had appeared out of thin air, each standing in his doorway with similar crossed armed stances.

"We saw Courtney but I'm not going to interrogate you about that yet-" Shayne flushed red and blinked back a memory of past Ian (who would've winked after the phrase) as the bearded man spoke. "But we've got some interesting stuff that you might want to hear about. Damien?"

"Right. So, Shayne...you remember that time a few years ago where I saw us crashing the golf cart in my brain six hours before it happened? How everything was all weird and purple and I saw something happen before it actually did?"

"Yeah, your freaky psychic moment. What about it?"

"As you know, it's happened multiple more times. And it happened about twenty minutes ago, and I saw the Nick Morgan dude and some masked figure watching Corn and Joven at some industrial facility. If Mari got clues last night, we're one step closer to finding them."

\--

"Are you positive it was Nick?" Mari pressed, running slender fingers through her bedhead as she paced in front of the door.

"Positive. Auburn hair, green eyes, slight overbite, even the mole on his left cheek. It was definitely him."

"And if it is him, who's the other guy?" Shayne asked, head reeling with guesses and theories.

"Well, Mari and Sohinki both said that Nick mentioned a "friend" who he couldn't disclose any information about. More likely than not, this is that friend, right?"

"Could explain the mask and all-black bodysuit, too. He might have darker skin, but from what I could see, it was a dark tunnel, and Nick is very pale, so that's a shaky assumption." Damien was winded- seeing something always took so much energy and stability out of him, and Boze had been the only one able to calm him down afterward.

"Damien, we need to tell everyone else about this. Even if this is all going to lead back to the drawing board, we need a solid plan."

"Yeah, yeah we do. But I'm not going to be the one to wake up Sohinki."

"I'll handle Matt," Mari murmured fondly, squeezing past the three men in the doorway. Shayne watched, wondering if that was how he looked at Courtney- but no, Mari and Sohinki were not making out on couches, so probably not.

"Shayne..."

"Hm?" 

"Shayne, the other guys. You're staring; go get them, please." Ian's tone was amused as if he could hear Shayne's thoughts- or rather, fantasies. Gross. But the blonde trudged down the hallway to gently push the oak door to Keith and Noah's room open. It used to be his, actually, before he got sick of Noah's white noise machine. Sure enough, it was blaring (really, at ten o'clock in the morning) until Shayne lost his patience and abruptly shut it off.

"Get up, get up, we've got a meeting," he called, two lumps stirring in their respective twin beds.

"Five more minutes," Noah groaned, half-muffled into a pillow.

"No more minutes, now!" the older boy teasingly uttered as he approached Noah and ripped the covers off of his folded body.

"What could possibly be so important before eleven in the morning?"

"Leads." Eventually, with the promise of several favors and bargains, he got the duo out of their room and semi-clothed in five or so minutes.

"Finally, slowpokes!" Olivia chirped as she tucked her phone into the waistband of her sweatpants, evidently twice as awake as the boys. "Keith, Noah, Shayne," she paused at the last name, exaggeratedly looking from him to a fiercely blushing Courtney.

"Oookay," Mari said, leaning into Sohinki's comforting arm around her shoulder. "So I found a potential lead that I'm calling Matt Raub about. Originally, it was just a spot in the warehouse district, but Damien saw something that reinforced my guess." She mimed passing a torch as she finished explaining. Eight pairs of eyes fell on Damien as he repeated his "vision", expressions of excitement, fear, and incredulity manifesting on people's faces.

"So we're listening to the psychic boy again?" Keith half-joked, his furrowed eyebrows betraying his forced laughter.

"Psychic boy furthered our existing ideas, so I'd say he's one of the important ones to listen to," Sohinki said- Shayne internally flinched at his terrible eye bags. "Whoever was keeping us there knew what they were doing. Mars and I think they're manufacturing unique torture for each of us, which means they know our weaknesses well- they've evidently done their research.

For me, it was the blinding and fluorescent white room, both looking like a crazy rehab facility and keeping me from rest. For Mari, it was forcing her to sleep constantly and have 0 knowledge of time or space, being out of control and stuck in empty darkness. If they were moving L-Corn and Joven, they're probably giving up on that 'torture' and trying something new. Let's pretend we escaped round 1, and we're in this bad shape after a few weeks. Imagine what's happening now- are we going to doubt Damien, or act on our only lead before anything worse?"

His words left the group in silence, for once not awkward, but contemplative.

"We have to do something," Olivia piped up from in between Courtney and Noah. "I can't keep living in fear of doing anything anymore. We find these bastards and teach them a lesson, and we take back our friends."

"Do you think it's true? That it's him?" Noah suddenly asked. "Do any of you think it could be _him_?"

"What do you mean-" Shayne started, voice breaking as he realized who Noah was referring to as ' _him_ '. 

"I don't know, honestly. I doubt it, but we have to prepared for anything, including that possibility." Ian's voice was shaking slightly too, and Courtney tentatively squeezed his shoulder. Shayne met her eyes, raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, and made sure she got his message. _It's okay_. Simple but effective.

Yeah, it _would_ be okay, he told himself. They were only about to begin.

\--

hi i should've finished typing AGES ago but i didn't :)

enjoy this update that's a little filler but a little plot

next chapter makes me smile so much be prepared

xx emmeline


	11. ten-outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia is still texting Sam- bad idea. Sohinki is simping for seven years now- also a bad idea. I waited months to publish this- very bad idea.

Olivia was notoriously cautious. She was the kid to drag her friend down from atop the monkey bars, the girlfriend with a self-imposed date night curfew, the person who only brought a knife to a gunfight for fear of hurting other people. But something about Sam made her throw caution to the wind.

She had known the guy (well, personally, not as a borderline stalker) for a mere 72 hours, and she'd made more reckless decisions in the past three days than in the past three years. Just now, she lay on her mattress almost fully covered in a blanket, nails tapping furiously on a keyboard. God, flirtation was exhausting- how was Sam so good at it? Audible giggles nearly escaped every few minutes, and the petite girl tried desperately to disguise the sound with a cough.

It didn't work.

"Lib Lib, are you sure you're not getting sick? You've been coughing constantly for about an hour now."

"No, Keith, I'm not coming down with anything. My throat's just really dry...allergies or something."

"Sure," Noah chuckled, texting with similar fervor in the opposite corner of the room. "Who're you texting anyway, Liv?"

"My mom," she paled, praying that they'd buy the very obvious and weak lie.

"Jeesh, I didn't know your mom could text back that quickly," Keith chimed in, scooching closer to her and trying to catch a glimpse of the screen. 

"Um, yeah, guess she's using voice type today or something."

"Sure, sure," the dark-haired boy teased, flopping dramatically onto her legs and eliciting a very indignant squeal. "Soooo, is he hot?"

"Keith! Why on Earth would you think I'm-"

"Texting a guy? Olivia, honey, you're literally smiling and laughing every five seconds, and I'm pretty sure databases don't hold that good of a conversation." Now both of them were ganging up on her. Great. Just peachy.

"Okay, fine, it's a guy, but you are _absolutely_ sworn to secrecy, do you hear me? I _will_ tell everyone about that pool boy, Keith. And Noah, I've seen your browsing history, so do not even _think_ of spilling."

"So, what's his name?" The duo spoke in unison, surprisingly calm given her explosive command.

"Sam," she murmured shyly.

"Mm, sounds sexy already!" Keith hooted, Olivia's hand immediately clapping over his mouth.

"For the love of God, take it down a million notches! Wow, you're making me feel 16 again."

"So, Sam is...who is Sam, exactly?" She refused to answer Noah, instead, she slunk down into the quilt with furiously red cheeks. "Spill, sister," he continued, striding over to situate himself next to the other two.

"He may or may not be a guy I've been stalking for weeks, and I kind of followed him onto a bus and gave him my number..."

"Look at you, Lib Lib! Actually doing something bad!"

"Shut up, Keith, we're _obviously_ embarrassing her." The two boys continued to tease her until she snapped. (Jokingly, of course...yeah.)

"Okay, enough, you fiends! I'm just texting him and flirting a little, it's not like it's a thing. It's real...cas."

"What is cas?"

"Oh, it's like, casual. It's slang, like, a teenager twitter thing."

"Well, it kind of has to be!" Noah exclaimed, finally turning off his phone and raising an eyebrow. "It's not like you're going to just sneak out and see him like a teenager breaking her grounding, right?" That totally wasn't what she'd been planning since Ian had decided to close the shop for the day. "Olivia Sui, please tell me you're not seriously going to-"

"Noah, she's gonna do whatever she's gonna do. Your secret is safe with us, Liv. We'll butt out if you want." The sudden sweetness from the darker boy shocked her, such a contrast from his usual comedic (and sometimes childlike) antics. He was being surprisingly...mature. Losing everyone really _had_ changed them, and she couldn't decide if it was for better or for worse.

"Thank you, appreciated. I'm gonna check on Mari, see if she needs some coffee- she looked pretty dead on her feet this morning." Nimbly slipping off the edge of the bed, phone in hand, Olivia padded down the hallway and to the secret staircase disguised as a bathroom closet.

Technically, their whole apartment was a secret. Besides the fact that the whole team now lived there, Ian and Anthony had always wanted privacy, whether it was from customers or angry enemies. Over the years, the two developed elaborate security measures, including more stairs into a storage room, which led to another hidden door (keypad included), which led to a closet labeled employees only. She climbed through a forest of mops and tall buckets to emerge into a narrow hallway. How they managed to fit all the secret passages in the building, she had 0 clues. 

The light at the end of the "tunnel" gave the small girl two options: dare to enter the shop directly through the breakroom (and remember yet another code), or walk on the street to keep up the appearance that she was coming from the outside. Normally, Olivia would go straight through the cafe to behind the register or the bathroom. Today, she was feeling adventurous, so much so that she texted Sam back, sending a quick question of "are you getting a danish ??"

"Wait, shit, how would I know that if we've only been talking for three days, _fuck-_ " he texted back immediately, a grinning picture of himself with his usual order in hand. Olivia had to fight back a smile as she smoothed her hair behind her ears. Ian, Shayne, Courtney, and Damien were at Sarah's this morning, and the store was abandoned, so she swallowed her better judgment and stepped out into the alleyway. Five feet later, she reached the street, popping out of the darkness and blending into the bustling rush of business people.

There Sam stood, down the block at the Mathis Bakery, smiling at his phone. Was she the reason? That was thrilling. Any inhibition evaporated, and she strode to meet him, clad only in an oversides sweater, shorts, and slides that were bordering on slippers. Yeah, maybe she didn't think this through.

"Hi, Sam," she squeaked, not sure if they were at 'tapping each other on the shoulder' phase yet. His face lit up even more as he turned to rest eyes on her.

"Tori, hey!" he exclaimed, her fake name rolling off his tongue like it was golden and gilded. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, I," she scrambled for an excuse "My friend Ma-Roger is, um, sick and I thought I'd grab him something from the bakery." Yes, good excuse.

"Oh, well, I can help if you'd like- help you pick something out, that is. I'm a regular."

"I'd like that." Thank god she'd remembered her wallet in her pocket this time- that would've been so embarrassing. So they strolled into the bakery, Olivia keeping her head down and attempting to shield herself from everyone but Sam. Hopefully, it'd come off as cute shyness and not 'fugitive-gang-member'. 

"You said he was sick, right? Those jelly donuts always cheer me up when I'm not feeling fabulous. Of course," he leaned in conspiratorily- "They're not as good as my mom's. Jewish cooking trumps all; these donuts are tradition." 

"Oh, Roger's Jewish too," she muttered, grinning as she purchased half a dozen of the pastries. She was literally buying donuts with a cute guy (a near-stranger) and completely unarmed and _alone_ in a public setting with tons of opportunities for danger, but she felt so incredibly, interestingly alive. Maybe this is what a normal life could feel like, one without gangs and kidnapping and the need for a knife in her boot.

"So..." Liv paused, gazing at Sam's face, illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the wide bay window. 

"So..." he retorted, smiling down at her. God, if that height difference wasn't attractive.

"So your mom makes them better than this, huh?" Her question emerged a tad too flirtatious, a hair too daring, but evidently made him happy as she watched his smirk widen. 

"Yep! Maybe you could be the judge of that sometime," Sam responded, causing her entire stomach to dissolve into butterflies.

"Maybe- anyway, I've got to go," she whispered, wishing she didn't. "See you soon, Sam."

"Bye, Tori." Wincing as he kept waving at her with the smile never leaving his face, she watched him walk to the bus stop, every fiber of her being yearning to follow. But she had to sigh, knowing she'd always be hiding behind the fake names and stolen moments like this. For the first time in a long time, normal seemed appealing.

\--

Making her way back into the apartment, she clutched the donuts and her tray of assorted coffees to her chest. Plain black for Mari, iced caramel latte for herself and Noah, cold brew for Keith, and a decaf mocha for Sohinki, all made efficiently with the blinds drawn and the lights off.

"Hey, losers, I got you coffee," she called into her room (that they were still inhabiting, rude), Keith and Noah scrambling to claim their drinks. "A 'thank you' would be nice, you little shits!" She exclaimed in mock fury, laughing as they quickly thanked her.

Mari and Sohinki weren't in either of their rooms or the living room. That left the office, which Mari _had_ been spending the majority of her time in lately. Sighing as she pushed open the door, she walked through it and swore her heart stopped for a split second. Mari's hand was bleeding (badly), Sohinki gently wrapping it in gauze and some sort of medical-grade tape. She could've sworn the older girl blinked away some tears as she looked up at Olivia. Sohinki immediately blanched and scooted away from her self-consciously (simp), running a hand through his overgrown hair.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Liv asked, not sure which of the two looked more uncomfortable.

"Nope. I just punched a wall really hard," Mari nonchalantly replied, gesturing with her non-injured hand at the cracked drywall to her left. The older woman was wearing a familiar grey hoodie that her friend vaguely realized from the corner of Sohinki's closet. "Is that coffee?" She followed, reaching for her labeled cup. Matt and Olivia watched wordlessly as Mari dismounted from the couch and approached the tray. As she snatched the beverage, the former girl could see the still-bleeding gash across her knuckles peeking out from under the edge of the gauze.

"So, why was a wall punched?" She queried, nervous to hear the answer.

"I was upset, so I punched a wall. If it's alright with you, I'd rather not discuss it." Sohinki flinched as he listened to her empty words, and Olivia knew- even if neither would admit it, a good bit of the 'wall punching' had to do with Wes. Poor, poor Matt.

"Sohinki, this is yours. And these," she paused, grabbing the bag of jelly donuts and offering it to the man, "are also for you. And possibly our injured patient."

"Aw, Olivia, you shouldn't have," Sohinki cooed, taking a bite of the treat and humming in approval. "Where did you get this?"

"Um, next door, at Mathis- do not tell anyone, I just wanted to do something nice-"

"Relax, Liv. Sohin wouldn't rat you out, and neither would I. Just be careful. Don't be too trusting or brave with anything- or anyone- besides us, of course." She winked, the tiny movement telling the younger girl Mari knew more than she would ever let on. "The others should be back soon, so we'd better finish the donuts before then, huh?" With that, the three dove in, not talking much, but manifesting some sense of normalcy amidst the chaos outside their home. 

"So, what did you guys do with our apartment?" Sohinki asked, referring to the flat that he shared with Mari and occasionally (frequently) (when they were not broken up) Wes.

"The same thing that happened to my place," Olivia answered. "We ended up renting it to an 'anonymous Airbnb user' for an indefinite period of time. That is also known as Matt and Step pretending to stay at five different apartments so we don't have to sell."

"How does that even work?"

"Franky, I'm not sure." They returned to the snack, finishing mere minutes before the sound of keys in a lock penetrated the quiet. 

"Comfortable silence is so overrated," Sohin quipped, ducking his head into the napkin to wipe errant powdered sugar from his chin.

"Damien said I could use the training room with him later. I'm gonna clean up a little and go talk to him about it. Catch you two later!" Mari swiftly stood up, pecking Olivia on the cheek and side-arming Sohinki into a hug that lasted a hair longer than any of them would like to admit. The older woman left the room in search of Damien, the brunette she left behind blushing as he nervously ruffled his hair.

"Hey, Matt...You're still...you know...right." She couldn't bring herself to finish any part of the sentence once her eyes caught his tired- no, exhausted ones.

"I don't know what I expect to happen, honestly. It's pathetic. In the beginning, waiting it out was optional. Now, at this point, it's the option I wish I wasn't clinging to. It's been seven years, Liv. Seven years."

"I'm sorry, I really am. I wish I could help, but this isn't something I'd know how to fix for you. Especially when one of the other players of this long game is locked in a creepy facility that we still have to break him out of. And when he's one of your best friends that you've known longer than I've been in your life."

"I know, I know. I know. I just hate that I got here first and did nothing about it. Sometimes there are moments when I hope or assume, and then he, present or past, messes shit up again. I love them to death, but it really fucking sucks. Especially when I have to be content with living from fleeting moment to moment. Especially when I had to pick up the pieces like I wasn't selfishly hoping they'd fall apart the entire time."

She patted his hand gently, sympathy coursing through her veins. She was cautious about this situation, something she probably had no right to meddle in even though it hurt some of her best friends in the universe. Honestly, she agreed with Matt- there were moments where she hoped or assumed there was something there for him, something finally going his way and not just her being extra perceptive and susceptible. Maybe the recent events held some good. Maybe they'd be a turning point for many of the people in their ragtag family.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a custom pattern- definitely Sam.

\--

HI HELLO THIS IS ME I AM FUCKING BACK HELL YES this is maybe one of my favorite chapters i've written for this baby so far, even though i wrote it months ago (aka march ?? april ??) (please i'm so bad at updating)

this is the last update you'll get for a while, because as my wattpad followers know i have halfway left the current smosh fandom and cannot make myself write the current members at all. but i typed this all for y'all pls appreciate it

(i am writing a damien pov chapter rn)

poor simp sohinki

stan twitter has taken over my life Tbh

love u all bye


	12. eleven- harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damien meets a familiar face, and some plans are made <3

bear with me and read to the end for an a/n, it's a long one today (had to do a POV for damien, my best boy) 

\--

Damien winced as he brushed the sweat from his forehead, knuckles split and bleeding like his training companion.

"They're not going to pause to let you fix yourself, you know. Finish the fight." She was also panting heavily, punching bag sufficiently roughed up. They were doing hand-to-hand training today, Ian forbidding an indignant but recovering Mari from using weapons so soon after she'd gotten back.

"Dummy doesn't fight back. I decided when I'm finished here, he doesn't."

"Well, I do," She chuckled wryly, tightening the bandage around her fist. "Still gonna hide behind your gun, 'fraidy cat?" Damien's jaw tightened as she teasingly squared up, moments from his previous sparring matches replaying in his head while she muttered "you wanna go? you wanna go right now?" Mari laughed as she threw a jab into the air, slipping into her 'beating people up is an Olympic sport and a late-night comedy special' persona.

"I'm not that scared little boy anymore. You sure you're up for it, patient?"

"You sure you can take me?" Both pairs of eyes narrowed, and they began to circle each other. Sure, Damien was strong and much bigger, but Mari was speedy, graceful, had catlike reflexes. She and Boze had always beaten him in fights by being quick on their feet. But he'd been practicing too much to lose yet again. 

He threw the first punch, Mari deftly catching his swing and twisting his arm behind his back- but then he sidestepped in the opposite direction and kicked her shin (worked on all the elementary school bullies, he grinned); maybe he had a chance. She snarled and unleashed a series of blows he quickly parried, the hours of beating the absolute living _shit_ out of practice equipment funneling into one cohesive fight. Their familiar song and dance continued for several minutes, his tempo finally catching up to hers.

"You surrender," she grinned, pressing him into the mat and pinning his wrists to the ground. 

"Ah, yeah, you got me," he feigned weakness and let that tiny glint of victory in her eye signal relaxation. "Checkmate," was his only word as he flipped her over, knee finding her windpipe in a contorted position he barely knew how to get out of. He did it.

"Damn, Dames," Mari called as she crossed the room, snatching a towel and cleaning her drenched forehead. "Who knew you could fight like that?"

"I still miss my gun."

"Oh, same, definitely. Gets shit done. Besides, it's nice to have options." _You would know,_ he darkly thought to himself before shoving the spiteful and cliche thought from his head.

"That's what you said to me, our first day of training. Boze and I had been working here for only a few months, and you decided to drop _the_ bomb on us after pretending it was just a new workout. You made us fight each other, hit each other, and then when we asked why did was better than the guy, you said 'It's nice to have options.'

"Then Ian and Anthony cornered us and told us why we work here- how we work here. Now, look where we are." Damien remembered that day like it was yesterday. He'd decided that his strange clairvoyance was a fluke that night in the tattoo parlor, but then Mari had led them into the miniature gymnasium and told them it was a workout they'd never forget. There were guns and targeted dummies on the wall- he had been utterly horrified, felt a flash of pain, and watched through purple-tinted glasses that dreaded vision of himself in this very room, firing one of those guns.

But Boze had been like, 'oh cool weapons and fighting' and she let Mari coach her through basic punches. Then Damien caved and found he enjoyed it. That was the day he found out he couldn't go back. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

\--

Showering after training was a sinful escape. No, it wasn't a sexual or creepy pleasurable experience, but something about the warm water easing his sore muscles made Damien melt into a pile of goop. It was so incredibly relaxing- of course until someone _had_ to knock on the door with hits too soft to be from Shayne.

"Hey, open up!" Courtney's lilting tone floated under the door. "You've been in the shower for twenty minutes- Celia's here. And...she brought company." Groaning, Damien switched off the faucet and fumbled with the towel Courtney lobbed over the shower curtain.

"Court, you've seen my best friend naked, but I would very much appreciate it if that statement didn't expand to include me as well."

"I am not going to even dignify you with a response." She muttered, stalking out of the bathroom and surely trying to contain her crimson blush. Within three minutes, Damien was dressed and scrambling to the living room where the whole gang was congregating. In the center of the chatter was Celia, holding a notebook that had so many scribbled paragraphs inside that it looked like an entire draft of a novel. Then, the brunette moved his eyes ever so slightly to the right and-oh. _Oh._

"I-" he said before stopping the syllable's escape. The subject of said syllable turned then, golden blonde hair parting to reveal a very familiar set of warm brown eyes.

"Oh...hey, Damien," the blonde murmured, looking torn between stepping forward or turning on her heel and running as far away as she could. "Long time, no see," hovered in the air between them, the words muffled as a flood of memories rushed through Damien's mind.

"Good, you two have already met!" An oblivious Celia exclaimed. "Ivy, this is everyone. Well, almost everyone. Guys, this is Ivy." Ivy waved slightly, not exactly shy but still timid. Olivia had wormed her way out from under Mari's arm (not so subtly shoving Sohinki to replace her) and came to rest her chin on Damien's shoulder from behind.

"So, what's with you and the mystery girl? Is she an old friend from high school or something?" Damien blinked, shoving everything from the past back into the box in the far reaches of his brain. 

"Ex-girlfriend, actually. But that's not important anymore; we broke up a long time ago. It's just...weird." Olivia hummed in sympathy, draping her arms over his shoulders. 

"You wanna talk about it?" the smaller girl whispered, her compassion (as always) lifting his mood immediately.

"Later, yeah. Right now, I just want to figure out what she's doing here. Thanks, Liv."

She patted his cheek and scampered off to check on Keith, who was too close to the alcohol cabinet for 4 p.m. _Thank the Lord for best friends like Olivia Sui_ , he internally mumbled. Now, the Ivy...situation.

The two had been high school sweethearts, and he'd thought they'd be together forever. She'd been his first...nearly everything. First serious relationship, first time, first love. Then they were 19 and decided a long-term, long-distance relationship wasn't in the cards for them. It wasn't a terrible split, it was mutual and slightly overdue. Maybe it was the empty promise of remaining friends that was so painful, how it vanished in a few short weeks.

It had been four years, and Damien was in love with another person who he truly _knew_ was his "forever girl" (to quote Avatar Aang). Ivy was the sun, but Boze was the moon, and Damien loved the night. But did his ex-girlfriend have to show up at his work? Really?

"I know what you're thinking, you know." He startled and whirled around, chocolate orbs piercing his hazel ones. "You haven't changed _that_ much, Day." The nickname, dusty from four years of disuse, sounded like nails scraping on a chalkboard.

"No, I guess I haven't...you grew your hair out," he off-handedly noted as a feeble attempt at small talk.

"Yep. Four years can do a lot, it seems."

"Yeah." The silence could've lasted forever but was interrupted by Ian's sharply distinctive noise of throat-clearing.

"Okay. So, I'm sure you've all deduced why we're here right now. Sarah couldn't join us- shes's apparently on a mandatory blind date." The older man rolled his eyes. "But she and I, along with Matt Raub, started working on a plan for a...how would I phrase this? Prison break."

"So _that's_ what they were talking about while we were learning Hacking 101," Damien heard Courtney whisper to Shayne. 

"But we don't really know what we're dealing with. So, we need all the help we can get. Matt offered us some reinforcements, but our team needs some internal padding. especially now that Tanner's getting closer to confirming BB involvement. Matt-- other Matt-- and Steph are on their way and will help us hold down the fort once we pick times and dates, but we need more people on the 'squad', so to speak. Celia, you have the floor."

"Hey, guys. So, I'm obviously not going to be the most reliable in the field- I have a new baby at home. So, I invited someone very special to me to come and help y'all- my cousin, Ivy." Suddenly, it clicked. If Ivy hadn't grown out and semi-straightened her normal blonde ringlets, the two would look like sisters.

"Ivy's known about our line of work for a couple of years now...not specifics, but she's got the general gist of things."

"Ahem," the shorter blonde nudged her cousin.

"Oh, right. Ivy is also trained in martial arts and has a rifle license, so she's already a thousand times more valuable than me." Damien blanched as Celia flushed. Since when was Ivy, chorus member and creative writing club founder, trained and legalized for combat? More than her hair had changed over the last few years, apparently.

"Cels, you're very important," Ian assured.

"We see your notebook! Brief us, woman!" Courtney half-shouted, eliciting laughs from half the crowd.

"Okay, so-- we have four friends in this creepy 'prison' warehouse. We assume they're all being held separately; that's the pattern we've observed from their recollections--" she jerked her head in Mari and Sohinki's direction-- "and that one's creepy vision." Damien ducked his head, not witnessing Ivy's eyes widening comically.

"So we have to split up. Dividing and conquering is our best bet and will probably be the most effective. None of this is finalized, especially since we don't have a map, but until we get more intel, this is the rough draft: Shayne, you're taking care of Joven, along with some muscle Matt's sending-- he's probably incapacitated without his glasses and will need some...assistance not killing himself on the way out. Noah, Courtney, you two are grabbing Lasercorn. Get in, get out, be fast."

"Olivia, you and one of Matt's right-hand men are helping Wes. You'll be sneaking past while Matt's guy distracts the guards or whatever's keeping Wes contained; the man can handle himself once you get him out of there. Keith, as usual, you're our Flash-- your job is to silently but quickly create distractions and mayhem if we need it. If for whatever reason we don't, help anyone who is struggling. And Damien, you and Ivy are getting Boze. I knew if I gave you any other task, you'd just go ahead with that anyway, so I'll save all of us that trouble."

Olivia winced, and Damien was sure he was hiding his grimace way less than gracefully. Rescuing his current girlfriend with his ex-girlfriend as his partner was going to be _so_ much fun.

"Hey, hey, hey, what about us?" Mari angrily asked, stepping closer to the blonde mastermind.

"You and Sohin have to stay here. These people can't know you got back to us, or they'll likely try to take you back or exploit your weaknesses again. I want you two safe here, with me and Ian and the bicker twins." (Sarah and Matt Raub, obviously).

"What the hell? You can't fucking ground us! The two of us could be so valuable."

"We have no idea what we're dealing with! What if you get hurt-- well, more hurt?"

"Frankly, I don't care. We need to be there. We want to be there!"

"Well, I want you alive. I'd rather you be pissed at me and alive than reckless and _dead_." Celia leveled her with such an intense stare that half the room flinched.

"Mars, she's right. Besides, we're not at 100% yet. You can deny it all you want, but we're hurt. Can't we sit this one out?" Sohinki murmured.

"Pussy," Mari hissed, but it wasn't derogatory, and she seemed slightly mollified.

"Well, you two can help me with the go-pro setup, and you'll get some rest and relaxation." Celia brightly chimed in again, the mom-stare having vanished.

"Okay, that makes being grounded _slightly_ worth it," Sohinki smiled.

Damien slipped through the rest of the meeting in a dazed fog. It was 90% a discussion of what they'd done at Sarah's earlier and filling Ivy in on all the information she'd need for the task awaiting her-- facts about their friends, the basic low down of their notes on the mystery prison, how to work the espresso machine. The second he heard his own name mentioned in the context of Boze, he tapped out.

God, he missed her. He'd give anything to hug her, kiss her, even make a cup of coffee with her as if nothing had changed. He didn't want to rehash the bad parts of their newly begun relationship (aka the not being together for the majority of it parts)-- especially not around Ivy. 

Unfortunately, he kept circling back to his old...partner in his thoughts-- he trusted her, knew she was reliable and honest. She'd been a good friend before they started dating, and she would've been afterward if he hadn't selfishly pushed her away. She would no doubt be supportive of Boze dating him-- she had probably moved on just like he had. So why was he so uneasy around her still, after four years?

"Hey," a quiet voice sounded, interrupting his introspection. "You've been frozen for twenty minutes, Dames. Everyone else is training or eating dinner, but I told them you needed some space. Are you doing okay?" Olivia asked, waving her hand in front of his stagnant gaze. He blinked a few times, returning to the present and feeling the hunger pains that he'd suppressed since his shower.

"Food sounds nice, but I don't want to be around everyone right now. I'm feeling..." An empty 'fine' didn't feel right in this situation. "Weird." Olivia nodded, taking his hand and tugging him through the familiar passages to the shop downstairs.

"I'll warm a couple of sandwiches. I hope you don't mind bacon for dinner."

"Bacon? Not at all," Damien smiled, gazing through the blinds into the dark, street-lantern illuminated streets.

"Okay, so you're feeling weird. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I think I have to."

"Ivy, right? There's something stopping you from reacting like a normal person reuniting with their long-gone ex, but I'm guessing it's not lingering feelings or regretting the breakup or relationship. It's something else."

"You continue to be amazing at reading me, Liv," he laughed, helping himself to a cup and strolling over to the water cooler machine. "And yeah, you're right. You're 100% right. I'm in love with someone else, we broke up mutually and painlessly, and she helped me grow as a person for the latter half of my teenage years-- both as a friend and a partner. After serving her purpose in my life, she was gone, but now that she's here, I just feel...odd."

"Maybe that's it. You said she was gone. You two were friends before you dated-- if you broke up super easily, why didn't you stay friends afterward?" she asked as she removed the sandwiches from the microwave, placing them on napkins and taking a small bite while watching him struggle to answer her question.

"Well, we intended to be. She really wanted to try, and I said and thought I did too-- but I guess I subconsciously pushed her away and we didn't make a sufficient effort. I was taking a gap year before university, and you know how that turned out. And then she was at college across the country, so once we weren't dating, being in touch just kinda...ended. I didn't get closure, didn't properly close the chapter." Suddenly, it all made sense. "Wow, that was so true, all of it. Talking it out just helped so much."

"One more thing- maybe her being here now is the cosmos' way of saying she still has a purpose to serve in your life, not romantically anymore, but as an ally, a friend. Maybe you're getting a second chance with closure!" They were both slightly smiling now.

"I've missed this, you know-- our late-night talks, snack, therapy sessions and all that. You know me better than anyone, and I know I've been distant for a while-- and I miss you," Damien remarked. He did. He really did. 

"Well, the last time we had one, I was crying over Tinder while you freaked out about the merits of sushi vs. Chinese takeout. A lot has changed since then. But yeah, I've missed them too. You're just too easy to talk to."

"So are you- you just calm and reassure me by being here to listen and help. I appreciate the heck out of you, Liv." Shayne may have been his brother, a person more important to him than almost anyone else-- but Olivia was his best friend. 

"Damien, I'm going to cry, stop it." Okay, now the smiles were grins.

"So, when were you going to tell me about your secret boyfriend?" He asked playfully.

"What the fuck? What do you-- do I need to kill Keith-"

"No, I just saw your phone on the counter," Damien said, reaching across his food to tap the home button. "Text Sam back-- he's left you four messages!"

"Um."

"Spill. I'd rather hear about your mans than Shayne and Courtney doing whatever shit they're doing now."

"Shut up, he's just a guy I met officially a few days ago and talk to illegally. Without any proper safety precautions besides him thinking my name is Victoria Lee." Olivia was blushing profusely as she filled Damien in more on her new beau, the look in her eyes reminiscent of how he felt telling anyone about Boze. Mostly telling the girl sitting across from him right now.

"And then he texted me and told me-- hey, what are you-- _bitch_!" She nearly shrieked, lunging for her phone a second too late.

"I know your password," the brunette sing-songed, pressing the familiar sequence of numbers and finding her texts to Sam.

"You sick, sick bastard!" She growled, wrenching the device from his hands before he could type anything incriminating. "It's been three days, can we not scare him off immediately?" Olivia joked, stretching to muss Damien's hair.

A second after she touched his head, there was searing, white-hot pain. Then-- a flash of purple.

\--

 ** _a/n_ **bet you didn't see that coming! no, i definitely don't plan on milking damien's clairvoyance for any and all future cliffhangers.

(before anyone asks, damien and olivia's characters will not be having any sort of romantic relations <3 them supremacy, but only best friend supremacy)

anyways this a/n is a mess like this story but anyways i'm having so much fun with this book now- i already have another chapter (a brand new POV) and a half-written draft ready for publication.

also, say hi to ivy. she's sticking around for a while, and she's going to play a huge part in this story.

love you all, _mwah_

**Author's Note:**

> this was very different! i like it though. it's some sort of crime? cool fighting? secret agency maybe superhero maybe police force au and a departure from my normal writing style...let me know in the comments what you think. i just found a tumblr quote prompt that kind of made me think n start this a while back. if you think this could be an actual story that would interest you, tell me! anyway, i hope you enjoyed this. it's also up on wattpad, petrichor_plots (petrichor is a joke/word with my friend that we love if you've ever wondered wtf is up with my username) note to self: fewer tangents in my author's notes... :) third-person omniscient for the win


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